The monsoon came early that year.
Dark clouds. Wet roads. The smell of muddy ground and forgotten promises.
Aditi stood outside tuition, books pressed to her chest, trying to protect them from the rain.Everyone else had already left — except him.
Abhimanyu Singh.
She noticed him from the corner of her eye, standing under the awning in his grey hoodie, watching the rain fall.
They hadn't spoken in over a week.
And yet… something about this rain made everything feel heavier. Louder. Closer.
She fumbled with her bag. A gust of wind blew her dupatta across her face.
Before she could fix it, he was beside her.
Holding his umbrella over both of them.
"I thought you'd forget your umbrella," he said, his voice soft but steady.
Her throat tightened. "I didn't forget. I just… didn't expect rain."
He looked at her.
And for the first time in days — really looked.
Like he wanted to say everything he hadn't.
Like he missed her too.
They walked slowly, quietly. Just the two of them under one small umbrella.
Their hands brushed once.
Neither of them pulled away.
But neither reached out either.
Every step felt like a memory.
The alley where they once raced after tuition.The chai stall where he wiped foam off her lips and laughed.The lamp post where she first felt like maybe… he was hers.
When they reached her gate, she stopped.
"I should go."
He nodded, but didn't move.
"Are you okay?" she asked.
He didn't answer for a second. Then:
"I don't know."
Their eyes locked.
It would've been the perfect moment to say I miss you. I still care. I never stopped.
She almost said it.He almost did too.
Instead, he leaned in — just slightly.Her heart pounded. She tilted her face.
But then he paused.
And pulled back.
"Bye, Aditi."
And just like that, he walked away.
She stood there long after he was gone, raindrops soaking her sleeves.
Almost touched.Almost kissed.Almost saved.
Almost.The most painful place for love to live.