The city had a strange rhythm that evening.
It had rained earlier, leaving the streets wet and shiny, reflecting the neon lights like a million tiny stars. I hated walking in the rain. Wet clothes, cold shoes, and the risk of catching a cold. But that evening, I didn't mind.
Because I knew she might be there.
Her name—Riya—replayed in my head as I walked past the park near my office. Yesterday's coffee, our laughter, our quiet moments—they were all fresh, almost too vivid. It was strange how someone I barely knew could occupy so much space in my mind.
I reached the park and saw her under the same tree, now holding an umbrella, slightly tilted against the drizzle. She looked up, and our eyes met instantly. My chest tightened.
"Hey," I said, my voice a little rough with excitement.
"Hi," she replied, smiling. That small smile had a weight now. A warmth I couldn't explain.
We walked side by side under the umbrella, sharing the narrow space. It was awkward at first—two people trying to find comfort in a small, shared world.
"Why do you keep coming here?" she asked softly, teasing but curious.
"I… I don't know," I said honestly. "It just feels quieter here than the rest of the city. And… maybe I like seeing you."
Her smile deepened. "You're direct. I like that."
We walked, talking about small things—the city lights, the puddles that reflected them, the smell of wet asphalt. But there was a rhythm now, a gentle beat in our steps, matching the falling rain.
At one point, she slipped on a small patch of wet stone. Without thinking, I grabbed her hand. Our fingers brushed, held, and I realized I didn't want to let go.
"You okay?" I asked, though I already knew the answer.
She laughed softly. "I'm fine. Thanks… Tom."
Something about hearing my name from her lips sent a strange thrill through me.
We reached the little café she liked nearby. It was empty except for a couple of regulars and the smell of freshly brewed coffee. We ordered hot chocolate this time, because the rain made the city feel colder than usual.
We found a corner table, and this time, the silence wasn't uncomfortable. It was comfortable.
"I like the rain," she said, stirring her drink. "It makes the city… softer, somehow. Less harsh."
I nodded. "Yeah. Like it slows things down for a moment. Gives us time to notice things… or people."
Her eyes met mine, and I felt a pulse of something unspoken. A quiet awareness, as if both of us realized that this—these small, ordinary moments—was becoming something more.
We talked about her favorite books, movies, and childhood memories. She laughed at my silly stories, and I noticed how every laugh made her eyes sparkle.
"You're full of stories," she said, teasing.
"I like stories," I replied. "Even small ones. Even… little stories about coffee shops and rain."
She smiled. And in that smile, the city outside faded.
The Walk Back
The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time we stepped outside. The streets reflected neon lights, and the air smelled fresh, almost magical.
We didn't want to part ways. We walked side by side, sharing the umbrella again, our steps slowing as we approached her street.
"Tomorrow… do you want to meet again?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
She paused, looking at me, then smiled. "I was hoping you'd ask."
Something inside me lifted. A strange, light feeling, like the city itself was celebrating.
But just as quickly, reality reminded me—it was still a city full of strangers, full of noise, full of unpredictability. And we were just two people trying to carve a small space in it.
We stopped at her building.
"See you tomorrow, Tom," she said, stepping inside.
"See you, Riya," I replied, my voice barely above a whisper.
And then she was gone, swallowed by the city that never stopped.
At Home
I lay on my bed that night, staring at the ceiling.
The city outside my window hummed with life, indifferent and relentless. But inside my head, a new rhythm had begun. One that pulsed with anticipation, with curiosity, with… hope.
I didn't know what tomorrow would bring.
I didn't know if this was the start of something real, or just another fleeting chapter.
But I knew one thing:
I wanted to walk in the rain with her again.
I wanted to listen to her laugh.
I wanted to hear her tell me stories.
I wanted to see that soft smile every single day.
The city had never felt so alive.
And I had never felt so… uncertain, and so sure, at the same time.
Episode 4 Hook:
What will Tom discover about Riya tomorrow?
Will their small connection grow… or will the city pull them apart before they even start?