The sky over the city had turned a bruised purple, a familiar sign that the clouds were about to burst. Inside the glass-walled office, Nila watched the first few drops hit the pane. To everyone else, it was just weather; to her, it was the only time she felt truly close to him.
"Still working, Nila?"
The voice was deep and resonant, sending a familiar shiver down her spine. Vikram stood at the doorway, his coat draped over his arm. He was her colleague and her mentor, but in the quiet chambers of her heart, he was her entire world.
"Just finishing the report, Vikram," she replied, keeping her voice steady despite the sudden flutter in her chest.
"Don't bother. The streets are going to flood. Let's head out," he said firmly.
As they reached the lobby, the heavens opened up in a relentless downpour. Vikram pulled out a large, black umbrella—a simple object that, to Nila, felt like a sacred canopy.
"Come closer, or you'll get soaked," Vikram said, extending his hand slightly to guide her.
She stepped into his space. The world outside the umbrella was chaotic and loud, but inside, there was a heavy, sweet silence. She could smell the faint scent of his cologne mixed with the earthy aroma of the rain. Every time their shoulders brushed, she felt like her secret was written in glowing ink across her forehead.
He didn't say a word, and neither did she. He was watching the rain, but she was watching his left shoulder—the one getting drenched just to keep her dry. It was a moment inscribed in the rain, invisible to the world, yet the most real thing she had ever known.
"Take care, Nila," he whispered as they reached her car, his eyes lingering on hers for just a second too long.
As she drove away, Nila traced a small heart on the fogged-up window of her car. For now, her love would remain a secret, a story only the rain knew how to tell.