Chapter 17 – Under the Rain, We Spoke
आँखों से बहा अतीत का दर्द,
उसने थामा — कहा कुछ न, बस गर्द।
भरोसा और इश्क़ यूँ गहराए,
बरसात में दो दिल फिर मिल जाएँ।
The sky broke open that evening.
Thunder rolled across the horizon like a warning, followed by the first hard drops of rain that soon became a downpour. The glass walls of their Mumbai apartment trembled under the rhythm of the storm, the world outside blurring into streaks of silver and shadow.
Inside, the lights were dim, the air heavy with the scent of petrichor and sea wind.
Trisha stood near the balcony, her arms wrapped around herself, as if holding on to something invisible. The rain lashed against the railing, wind whipping her dupatta against her arm, and for a long time, she simply watched — watched the sky pour itself out as if it had been waiting for this night to cleanse everything.
Her thoughts were scattered, tangled between what she wanted to say and what she feared she might never be able to. Every drop that hit the glass seemed to echo something inside her — a memory, a hurt, a heartbeat that still hadn't found peace.
The door clicked softly behind her.
Abhineet had returned from a late meeting, his footsteps slow but certain. His shirt, slightly damp from the rain, clung to his shoulders. There was weariness in his eyes, yes, but beneath it, something else — something quieter, more fragile.
When his gaze fell on her, standing alone against the storm, he stopped. For a moment, neither of them spoke. The only sound was the rain.
"Trisha," he said at last — her name falling from his lips like a prayer.
She didn't turn. "You're drenched," she murmured, her voice barely audible over the storm.
He took a step closer, his tone gentler. "You're crying."
Her fingers froze midair. She hadn't realized it until he said it. The tears had mingled with the rain so seamlessly that even she couldn't tell where one ended and the other began. Maybe that was why she liked the rain — it made her pain invisible.
When she finally turned, the soft glow from the room behind them caught her face — the shimmer of tears, the quiet tremor of her lips, the ache in her eyes that she had long tried to hide.
"Why does it still hurt?" she whispered. "Even after knowing everything… even after trying to move on, why can't I stop feeling afraid?"
Abhineet didn't move closer. Not yet. He looked at her like she was something breakable — something he wasn't sure he had the right to touch.
"Because," he said, voice rough with emotion, "we both learned to live with pain. It's strange when something good starts to replace it. You almost want to run from it… because peace feels unfamiliar."
Her throat tightened. She looked away, out at the city lights blurred by rain. "And you?" she asked softly. "Do you still run from what you feel?"
For a moment, his jaw clenched. A flicker of something dark — regret, maybe — crossed his face. "I did," he admitted quietly. "Until you."
The words hit her like a current — sharp and tender, electric and real. The wind rushed through the open balcony doors, the rain spilling in and dampening the hem of her saree, yet neither moved.
He took another step, slow, deliberate, like a man approaching a truth he'd long been afraid to face. The distance between them closed to just a breath.
"I don't want to pretend anymore," he said, his voice trembling slightly. "You see parts of me no one ever has, Trisha. And it terrifies me because I never thought I could feel this much again."
Something inside her gave way. The walls she'd built around herself — silence, restraint, denial — began to crumble with the storm.
She wanted to tell him everything — about the nights she'd stayed awake thinking of him, about the way her heart stilled when he looked at her, about how loving him scared her more than losing anything ever had.
"You don't have to say anything," he added gently. "I just needed you to know."
But she did say something.
Her voice trembled, yet it carried through the sound of the rain — fragile, but unwavering. "You think I don't feel the same? Every time you look at me, I can't breathe. Every time you touch me, the world disappears. You're not the only one who's terrified, Abhineet. I am too."
The silence that followed was heavier than thunder.
Then, for the first time in what felt like forever, his composure broke. He reached for her, his hands cupping her face, his thumbs brushing away the tears that were indistinguishable from the raindrops.
The moment stretched — raw, electric, suspended between heartbeats.
The storm roared outside, and she leaned into his touch, eyes fluttering shut. It felt like everything she had been running from had finally caught up with her — but instead of fear, there was calm. There was him.
"I love you," she whispered. The words slipped out, fragile and fierce, as though they had been waiting at the edge of her lips for years.
Abhineet froze. His breath caught, his eyes searching hers with disbelief and aching tenderness. The words hung in the air, louder than thunder, softer than rain.
"Say it again," he murmured, almost pleading.
Her gaze lifted, unwavering this time. "I love you."
And then he kissed her.
It wasn't desperate — it was release. Years of ache unraveling, grief melting into something alive. The rain poured harder, drenching them both, but neither cared. The city beyond them blurred into a halo of silver light and distant sound.
Her hands trembled against his chest; his fingers tangled in her hair, the taste of rain and truth between them. It was everything unspoken, everything they had been too afraid to say, finally finding a voice.
When they broke apart, both were breathless, the world still spinning, the storm still raging — but somehow, inside that chaos, there was peace.
Abhineet pressed his forehead against hers, their breaths mingling, hearts still racing. "You don't know what you've done to me," he whispered.
Trisha smiled through her tears, her voice barely more than a sigh. "Maybe I do."
They stood there for a long time, wrapped in rain and silence. The storm no longer sounded angry — it was a song now, soft and wild, a rhythm that belonged only to them.
For the first time in years, the rain didn't feel like something to survive.
It felt like something that had led them here — to this moment, to each other, to the fragile peace that blooms only after a long storm finally breaks.
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✨ End of Chapter 17 ✨
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