Chapter 1: A Rainy Beginning
The sky had been heavy since morning.
Not just cloudy—heavy. Like it was holding something back. Like it was waiting for the right moment to break.
Meera Sen stood at the edge of the small-town bus stand, clutching her dupatta tightly around her shoulders as the wind began to howl. The air smelled of wet dust and distant thunder. Vendors hurried to cover their carts. A tea seller shouted at a boy to bring the plastic sheet.
And then the sky gave up.
Rain poured down like it had been waiting for this exact second.
Within moments, the street blurred into silver lines. The buses screeched away, tires cutting through puddles, splashing muddy water onto anyone unfortunate enough to stand too close.
Including her.
"Oh no!" Meera gasped as cold water soaked the hem of her pale blue salwar. She stepped back, but there was nowhere to go. The tiny tin roof over the bus stand covered barely three people, and today at least fifteen were fighting for space.
Her bus had just left.
Of course it had.
First day of college. First day of her new life. And she had missed the bus.
She swallowed the rising panic in her throat.
"Great start, Meera," she muttered to herself.
Thunder cracked overhead. The sound echoed through her chest, sharp and sudden.
She hated thunderstorms.
Not because of the sound. Not because of the lightning.
But because rain always reminded her of things leaving.
Her mother leaving for long hospital shifts. Her father leaving without explanation when she was thirteen. Promises leaving before they had a chance to stay.
Rain never brought comfort.
It brought memories.
The crowd under the shelter shifted again, pushing her out slightly. Someone elbowed her arm.
"Sorry," she whispered automatically.
She glanced at her phone. No signal. Of course.
A gust of wind flipped her hair across her face. She brushed it back impatiently.
That's when she noticed him.
He wasn't under the shelter.
He was standing a few feet away from it, near a closed shop with a half-pulled shutter. The rain drenched him without mercy, but he didn't move. He didn't seem to care.
Tall. Lean. Dark hair plastered to his forehead.
And his eyes—
Even from a distance, she could tell they weren't restless like everyone else's. They were still. Calm. Almost detached.
He wasn't trying to escape the rain.
He was letting it fall.
Who stands in the rain like that? she wondered.
He shifted slightly, adjusting the strap of a worn black backpack on his shoulder. His white shirt was already soaked through, clinging faintly to his frame. Yet his posture remained relaxed, as if storms were familiar companions.
Another bus roared past, sending a wave of water rushing toward the pavement.
Meera stepped back quickly, but her heel slipped on the wet ground.
Everything happened in a blur.
Her foot lost balance. The world tilted.
And before she could hit the ground—
A firm hand caught her wrist.
Warm.
Steady.
Strong.
She gasped as she stumbled forward—straight into someone's chest.
For a second, she felt nothing but the rhythm of a heartbeat beneath her palm.
Fast. But controlled.
"I've got you," a low voice said.
She froze.
Slowly, she looked up.
It was him.
Rain dripped from his hair onto his lashes. A tiny scar curved near his left eyebrow. His jaw was sharp, his expression unreadable.
But his grip on her wrist was gentle.
"You okay?" he asked.
His voice wasn't overly concerned. It wasn't dramatic.
It was calm.
Too calm.
She pulled her hand back quickly, her cheeks warming despite the cold rain.
"I—I'm fine. Thank you."
He nodded once. No smile. No lingering stare.
Just a simple acknowledgment.
She turned slightly, embarrassed.
But before she could step away again, thunder cracked loudly. Instinctively, she flinched.
He noticed.
"You hate thunder," he observed quietly.
She blinked. "What?"
"You close your eyes before it hits," he said. "Like you're bracing for something worse."
Her breath caught.
How did he notice that?
"I don't," she replied quickly, defensive.
One corner of his mouth twitched slightly. Not quite a smile. More like a secret he wasn't sharing.
"Your bus left?" he asked.
She nodded reluctantly.
"Mine too."
"Oh."
Silence fell between them, thick as the rain.
The crowd under the shelter shifted again, and a woman snapped, "If you're not coming inside, move!"
He glanced at the cramped space, then at her.
"Come on," he said.
"Where?"
"There's better cover."
Before she could protest, he stepped toward the closed shop and lifted the edge of the metal shutter slightly. Just enough for two people to stand beneath its overhang.
She hesitated.
"I don't even know you."
He raised an eyebrow.
"Fair."
Then he stepped back into the rain again.
Something in her chest tightened.
Why did that bother her?
She sighed and quickly moved under the half-shelter beside him.
The difference was immediate. Still damp, but less exposed.
"Thank you," she murmured.
He shrugged. "It's just rain."
"It's not just rain," she said before thinking.
He glanced at her.
She bit her lip. "I mean… it always ruins plans."
He studied her face for a moment longer than necessary.
"Sometimes it changes them," he replied.
The way he said it didn't sound random.
It sounded personal.
She looked away first.
"You're starting college?" he asked.
"Yes. First year."
"Commerce?"
Her eyes widened. "How did you—"
He pointed at the file she was holding. The college logo was printed clearly across the top.
"Oh."
She felt silly.
"You?" she asked.
"Same."
"Same year?"
He nodded.
Her heart skipped unexpectedly.
What were the chances?
Thunder rolled again, softer this time.
Rain began to slow slightly, shifting from aggressive sheets to steady drops.
She realized something.
"You're completely soaked," she said.
"So are you."
"Yes, but you were standing in it on purpose."
He didn't deny it.
"Why?"
For a moment, she thought he wouldn't answer.
Then he said quietly, "Some things feel lighter when it rains."
The simplicity of that sentence unsettled her.
"Like what?"
He looked ahead at the blurred road.
"Memories."
She didn't know what to say to that.
The rain softened further, turning into a gentle drizzle.
In the distance, she could see another bus approaching.
"That might be ours," she said.
"Probably."
They stepped out from under the shutter together.
The world looked different now. Cleaner. Calmer.
As the bus screeched to a stop, people rushed forward aggressively.
He stepped slightly in front of her, creating space so she wouldn't get pushed.
She noticed.
And she didn't miss the way he made sure she climbed the bus steps safely before boarding himself.
Inside, it was crowded. No seats left.
She grabbed a hanging strap, struggling slightly to balance as the bus jerked forward.
A sudden brake made her stumble again—
But this time, a steady hand pressed lightly against her back, keeping her upright.
She didn't turn around.
She knew it was him.
The bus windows were fogged. Rain traced patterns down the glass.
Her pulse hadn't returned to normal.
Why?
It was just a stranger.
Just someone who helped her twice.
Just someone whose eyes looked like they carried storms of their own.
After a few minutes, he spoke again.
"What's your name?"
She hesitated for half a second.
"Meera."
He nodded.
"Nice to meet you, Meera."
"And you are?"
A small pause.
"Aarav."
The name settled somewhere deep in her chest.
Aarav.
The bus slowed as it approached the college gate.
Students began pushing toward the exit.
As they stepped down onto the wet pavement, she turned to him.
"Thank you. For earlier."
"It wasn't a big deal."
"It was," she said softly.
For a brief moment, their eyes locked fully.
Not accidental.
Not passing.
Intentional.
Something flickered there.
Recognition.
Not of faces.
But of something deeper.
As if two strangers had silently agreed that this meeting wasn't ordinary.
Then someone bumped into her from behind.
She turned for just a second—
And when she looked back—
He was already walking toward the main building.
No goodbye.
No dramatic wave.
Just distance.
She watched him disappear into the crowd of new beginnings.
Rain had stopped completely now.
Sunlight peeked through thin clouds.
And Meera stood there, strangely aware that something had shifted.
She had missed her bus.
She had almost fallen.
She had met a boy who stood in storms without flinching.
And somehow…
The day didn't feel ruined anymore.
It felt like the first page of something she didn't yet understand.
As she walked toward the college entrance, her heart whispered something she refused to admit:
This wasn't just rain.
This was the beginning.