PART 1.
His thoughts. His heart.
It was raining.
Not just soft, pretty rain but the kind that crashes down like the sky is angry, loud, and unrelenting. I knew she hated storms.
I knew... because I noticed everything about her.
She didn't say she was scared. She never does.
But I saw the way her shoulders curled in, the way she pulled the blanket higher like it could hide her from the world. I couldn't sit still knowing she was afraid not when I was just a few steps away.
I walked to her room, barely knocking, and stood there for a moment. The thunder struck again. She flinched.
"Are you okay?" I asked gently.
No answer. Just silence.
But her silence screamed more than her words ever could.
I didn't wait. I slid into the bed beside her, the mattress dipping under my weight. I stayed close… but not too close. Until I felt it that tiny shiver. Her fear, barely visible… but I felt it like it was mine.
Without thinking, my hand reached out. Slowly, carefully, I wrapped it around her waist. She stiffened then melted.
"Come here," I whispered, my voice shaking, "just… hug me."
And she did.
Her head nestled against my chest like it belonged there.
My arms circled around her, tighter, pulling her into me like I never wanted to let go.
Her scent hit me first sweet, like flowers after rain.
Then her warmth, her breathing, her everything.
I was supposed to be comforting her.
But in that moment… she comforted something in me I didn't even know was broken.
I've never felt anything like it.
Her body curled into mine. My heartbeat loud in my ears. I wanted to protect her. Shield her from every storm.
I didn't want the night to end. I didn't want the rain to stop.
Because with her in my arms, trembling slightly, safe under my hold, I finally understood what love felt like.
Not loud. Not shouted.
But quiet. Still.
Her head on my chest… and my entire world in my arms.
PART 2.
His thoughts. His heart. Part 2.
I don't remember falling asleep.
Maybe I didn't. Maybe I was just lying there with her wrapped in my arms, listening to the rhythm of her breath like it was the only song I ever wanted to hear.
The storm had softened overnight. The thunder left quietly. The rain faded into a hush. But she… she stayed.
Curled into me, her head still resting on my chest like she belonged there.
And for a long time, I didn't move.
Not because I was afraid of waking her
But because I didn't want to wake from her.
The sunlight slipped through the curtains like a secret. It kissed her hair, her cheek, the curve of her lips. And I watched her still sleeping, still holding onto the front of my shirt like I was her safe place.
And in that quiet, my heart whispered things I hadn't dared to say aloud:
I want this. I want her.
Not just for a night. Not just because of the rain.
But for every morning. Every fear. Every breath between.
She stirred slightly, her fingers twitching on my chest. I gently brushed a strand of hair from her forehead, and her nose crinkled just a little the way it always does when she's half-awake and still pretending to sleep.
I smiled.
God, I smiled so softly it hurt.
I leaned down, barely a whisper between us, and said,
"Morning, storm girl…"
Her eyes didn't open. But her arm curled tighter around me, pulling herself even closer, like her body already knew what her mind hadn't woken up to yet:
We were exactly where we were meant to be.
And as I held her like that warm, sleepy, wrapped in yesterday's feelings and today's light I knew:
This wasn't just a moment.
This was the beginning of us.
The storm had brought her closer.
But love… love was going to keep her here.
PART 3.
His thoughts. His heart. Part 3.
The rain was gone.
The world outside had dried into sunlight and leftover clouds. But inside in this room, in this moment she was still here. Still close. Still mine, in every way except the one I hadn't said yet.
She was slowly waking up. I felt it.
Her fingers shifted against my chest. Her eyelashes fluttered lightly against her cheek.
I held my breath not because I was nervous,
But because I never wanted the spell to break.
She blinked once. Then again.
And then… she looked at me.
Eyes still half-sleepy, hair a little messy, cheeks soft and warm from sleep.
"Morning," I whispered, brushing my thumb against her jaw.
She didn't answer right away. She just looked at me like she was trying to memorize the moment like maybe she was afraid it wasn't real.
"I thought the storm would go away," she finally said, her voice raspy and small, "but you stayed."
I smiled the kind of smile that only exists for one person.
"I'll always stay," I said.
She didn't say anything. She just moved closer. One of her legs slid gently over mine. Her fingers reached up, hesitating then slowly, shyly touched the side of my face. I leaned into her hand like it was something holy.
And in that soft sunlight silence, I did what I had been wanting to do since the moment I saw her flinch from that thunder:
I kissed her.
Not fast. Not rushed.
Just a small, gentle kiss on her forehead right in the middle like a promise.
Then one on her temple. Her cheek.
And then, slowly, I whispered,
"Is it okay if I hold you a little longer?"
She didn't speak.
Instead, she pushed her face into my chest, nodded, and hugged me tighter arms wrapped around my ribs, her lips brushing the base of my neck.
And right then, everything was perfect.
Not loud. Not dramatic.
Just two hearts finally safe enough to be honest.
The kind of love that begins with a storm.
But grows with sunlight.
And stays… in soft forehead kisses and whispered promises.
PART 4.
His thoughts. His heart. Her forever.
It was late.
The house was dim, the windows open, letting in a soft breeze that carried the scent of rain-soaked grass and moonlight.
She was sitting on the couch, her knees curled up, wearing my hoodie the one that draped off her shoulder just enough to make my breath catch.
There was a quiet hum from my speaker. One of those slow, indie love songs she once told me makes her feel like she's in a movie.
She didn't notice me watching her.
But I wasn't watching.
I was memorizing her.
Without saying a word, I walked over and held out my hand.
She looked up curious, soft, glowing under the fairy lights that twinkled across the ceiling like tiny stars.
"What are you doing?" she asked, laughing gently.
"Dancing," I whispered. "With you."
She didn't answer. She just smiled that shy, beautiful smile that made me forget how to breathe and placed her hand in mine.
I pulled her close, one hand resting on the small of her back, the other holding hers, fingers laced.
We swayed.
Just that.
No choreography. No rhythm.
Just us.
Her head slowly dropped to my shoulder. I turned my face into her hair. Her hands slid up and wrapped around my neck, and our bodies pressed together like we had been made to fit.
No one else in the world.
Just this tiny moment.
Our hearts beating against each other. Her perfume. My arms around her waist. The lyrics softly saying everything I couldn't speak out loud.
I moved my lips near her ear and whispered,
"This. This is my favorite part of forever."
She looked up. Her eyes sparkled like she knew.
And then, without hesitation, she leaned in and kissed me again slower this time, deeper, with her hand gripping my shirt like she didn't want to let go.
We stayed like that holding, swaying, kissing gently under warm lights and soft music two souls dancing in their own little universe.
No crowd. No spotlight.
Just one song.
One night.
And a love only we understood.
PART 5.
Uni started quietly.
New faces. New buildings. New routines.
But even in the chaos, we had our own little world.
We found a small apartment off-campus beige walls, plants by the window, a mattress on the floor because we hadn't bought a bed frame yet. But we didn't care. We had each other. That was enough.
Mornings were slow and filled with sleepy kisses.
She'd brush her teeth while I stood behind her, wrapping my arms around her waist, my chin resting on her shoulder, whispering, "You look cute with toothpaste foam."
We made coffee together.
Studied late nights.
Cooked ramen while dancing to cheesy Tamil songs she loved the kind she pretended not to sing along to, but did anyway.
At night, she'd curl into me like a habit. Like a prayer.
And I'd whisper, "You still scared of the rain?"
And she'd smile against my chest and whisper, "Not when I'm with you."
It was perfect.
Almost too perfect.
But then things started changing.
She got distant.
Small things forgetting to reply to texts. Sitting on the edge of the bed instead of next to me. Her smile didn't reach her eyes anymore.
At first, I thought it was just stress. Exams. Exhaustion.
But one night, I came home and found her crying in the dark.
Not sobbing. Just… silent tears, curled up in a ball, hugging herself like she was trying not to fall apart.
I dropped everything.
"Hey," I said, kneeling beside her. "What happened? Talk to me."
She didn't look at me. She just whispered, "I don't know what's happening to me."
I pulled her into my arms. She didn't resist. But something felt different.
She was holding me, but it was like her heart was somewhere far away.
Days passed. I tried harder. I sent her notes in her notebooks. I walked her to class. I bought her favorite tea. I hugged her tighter at night.
But nothing worked.
She kept slipping.
Until one day, she whispered:
"I think I need space. I think I need to be alone for a while."
My world shattered in that moment.
"I thought we were okay," I said, my voice cracking.
"I don't know if I'm okay," she whispered. "And I don't want to hurt you while I figure myself out."
I wanted to scream.
I wanted to beg her to stay.
But I didn't.
I just said, "If this is what you need… I'll wait."
And I watched her walk out the door her footsteps echoing through our little apartment like a goodbye I never expected.
🌧️
They say real love survives the storms.
But what happens when the storm is inside the one you love?
PART 6.
Her thoughts. Her silence. Her heartbreak.
I didn't leave because I stopped loving him.
I left… because I was losing myself.
The truth?
It started slowly. The panic attacks. The overthinking. The nights where I'd cry in the bathroom with the tap running so he wouldn't hear me.
I couldn't breathe.
I couldn't explain why.
Everything felt like it was swallowing me my studies, my guilt, my fear that maybe I was the problem.
He was the only light I had and I hated that.
Because I knew if I broke, I'd drag him down with me.
And he didn't deserve that.
Every time he looked at me with those soft, worried eyes… it hurt.
Because he saw me like I was still whole.
But inside, I was crumbling.
And I didn't want him to see me fall apart.
So I did the only thing I thought was right.
I left.
I still remember the look in his eyes when I said, "I need space."
It shattered me.
It felt like tearing my own heart out of my chest.
But I thought… maybe if I left first, I could save him the pain of watching me fade.
But what I didn't expect…
Was how much it would hurt to be without him.
The silence in my new room was louder than any storm.
I'd wake up reaching for him, only to find cold sheets.
I kept playing the song we danced to the one with soft guitar and quiet lyrics on repeat.
I reread our texts.
I watched the sunrise and thought about how he used to say, "You look like the sun's favorite person."
I missed his hands. His laugh.
His silly tea orders.
His forehead kisses when I was pretending to be brave.
But most of all,
I missed being loved by him.
Because that love?
It made me believe I was more than my anxiety.
More than my broken parts.
More than the girl who flinched at thunder.
I still love him.
I always will.
But I don't know if he'll still be there when I'm finally strong enough to go back.
PART 7.
His thoughts. His ache. His almost.
It had been 32 days since she left.
Thirty-two nights of trying to sleep without her next to me.
Thirty-two mornings where I woke up reaching for someone who wasn't there.
Thirty-two days of holding myself together while pretending I wasn't falling apart.
People around me started moving on.
But me?
I still kept one side of the bed untouched.
I still made two cups of tea out of habit.
I still checked my phone at 3 a.m., praying maybe just maybe there'd be a message from her.
There never was.
Until one ordinary Thursday…
I saw her.
I didn't expect it.
I was walking to class, headphones in, mind half-asleep. And then like the universe wanted to mess with me
there she was.
Standing under a tree near the library.
Hair tied back. That same small curve in her nose I loved.
Wearing the hoodie I thought she left behind mine.
She didn't see me at first.
She was with a friend, laughing softly, tucking her hair behind her ear.
But even from across the campus, I could see it.
She looked…
Different.
Not better. Not worse.
Just… guarded.
Like she had built walls around her, and I wasn't sure if I was allowed to knock anymore.
My chest tightened.
I wanted to run to her.
To say everything I'd been choking on for weeks.
"Did you eat?"
"Do you still play our song?"
"Do you miss me like I miss you?"
But I didn't move.
I just stood there frozen. A hundred memories crashing down at once.
And then…
She looked up.
Her eyes locked with mine.
For a second, she didn't react.
Then slowly, so painfully slow… her expression cracked. Just slightly. Her lips parted. Her eyes glistened.
And in that one look, I saw it.
She missed me.
She still loved me.
But she was scared.
She didn't walk toward me.
She didn't wave.
She just held my gaze… and then turned away.
And I stood there
With a thousand things to say
And no voice left to say them.
🥀
I saw her again.
And I realized…
Missing someone is a pain.
But seeing them and not being able to touch them?
That's a heartbreak you never forget.
PART 8.
Her words. Her heart. Her silence.
Dear you,
(The one I can't stop loving even from a distance)
I saw you today.
You didn't see me first.
But when our eyes met… it felt like the world froze for just a second.
Like even time itself remembered what we used to be.
You looked… tired.
Not physically. But deep down. In your eyes.
And I hated that I might be the reason.
I wanted to run to you.
To cry into your chest.
To beg you to hold me again and whisper, "It's okay. You're safe now."
But I didn't.
Because I'm still scared.
Scared of needing you too much.
Scared of becoming the version of myself who depended on your love to feel worthy.
I'm trying, you know?
Trying to fix the mess inside me.
Trying to become someone who won't shut down, run away, or break at the softest thunder.
But it's hard.
And every night, I lie in bed, wishing I could reach for your hand even just once more.
I still sleep on the left side.
I still listen to our songs.
I still wear your hoodie.
And I still read your old texts, over and over again, just to feel you near.
You once told me,
"You don't have to be perfect to be loved."
And I believed it.
But now I wonder… do you still believe in us?
I don't know if I'm ready to come back yet.
But if you're reading this
Just know…
I never stopped loving you.
Not even for a second.
And if there's still a part of you waiting for me
Please don't let it fade.
Love,
The girl who still sleeps to the rhythm of your name
Sometimes, the loudest "I love you" is the one never said.
Just written. Cried. And kept.
PART 9.
His tears. Her voice. Their moment.
It was raining again.
Like the universe remembered everything.
The night I first held her. The night I fell in love. The night I lost her.
I was alone in the apartment.
The same one that still smelled like her jasmine shampoo.
The same walls where we slow-danced.
Where I kissed her forehead like a promise.
I was curled up on the couch, her hoodie pressed to my chest. I hadn't cried in days. But tonight… it was hard.
I thought of calling her.
Of saying, "I can't do this without you."
But what if she had already moved on?
Then,
A knock.
Soft.
Shaky.
Two knocks.
Then silence.
I froze.
It was past midnight.
No one ever came this late.
My chest tightened. My legs felt heavy as I stood and walked to the door.
And when I opened it
Everything stopped.
There she was.
Soaked in rain.
Hair dripping. Clothes clinging.
Eyes red and filled with tears but shining.
Lips trembling. Hands shaking.
But standing there like she had fought her entire mind just to show up.
She looked at me.
No words at first.
Just one small breath. One step forward.
And then she whispered voice cracked, like she was breaking as she spoke:
"Can I come home now?"
I didn't reply.
I didn't need to.
I pulled her into me so tightly I felt her heartbeat slam against mine.
She melted in my arms, gripping my shirt, burying her face into my neck, crying in a way that made my heart scream.
"You're home," I whispered. "You've always been home."
We stood there in the rain — just like before.
But this time, we weren't scared.
This time, it wasn't the beginning of a heartbreak.
It was the beginning of healing.
I kissed her.
Right there on the doorstep.
Rain soaking us, hearts beating wild.
No audience. No music.
Just our love — raw, bruised, and still alive.
Love left.
But it came back.
Stronger.
And this time… it was staying.
PART 10.
Her hands. His heart. Their second beginning.
The morning after she came back was quiet.
Not awkward.
Not sad.
Just… gentle.
She sat on the kitchen floor in one of my t-shirts, her knees pulled to her chest, fingers wrapped around a mug of chamomile tea. Her eyes were puffy. But she looked calm. Lighter.
I made toast. Burnt it a little. She smiled anyway.
"Still can't cook, huh?" she teased softly.
I laughed. "Some things never change."
But some things did.
Because this time, when I sat beside her, I didn't just reach for her hand —
I looked into her eyes and asked:
"Are you okay now?"
She didn't lie.
She didn't say "yes" to protect me.
She just whispered, "Not completely… but I'm learning. I'm trying."
That was enough.
We didn't need fireworks.
We didn't need dramatic kisses under the stars.
We just needed honesty.
Patience.
And each other.
Later that day, we lay on the bed — no music, no TV. Just holding hands. Breathing in sync.
"I'm sorry I broke us," she said suddenly, tears welling again.
"You didn't break us," I whispered, brushing her hair back.
"We bent. We cracked.
But we didn't break.
We're still here. Still us."
She crawled closer, resting her head on my chest like she used to.
"Can we start over?" she asked.
I kissed her forehead — slow, sure, full of love.
"No," I said. "Let's not start over. Let's continue. From here. From now. With everything we've learned."
And so we did.
We created new boundaries.
We went to therapy.
We learned to sit with silence without fearing it.
We texted less but talked more.
We argued sometimes, but always came back with softer voices and open hearts.
And every night before bed, I would hold her close and whisper:
"We don't have to be perfect.
We just have to be real."
And in that realness —
we finally found our peace.
🥺🌿
Love isn't about never falling apart.
It's about learning how to hold each other…
while you put the pieces back together.
PART 11.
Sam's plan. Taara's tears. Their always.
A year had passed since she came home in the rain.
In that year, we rebuilt everything.
We laughed harder.
Fought softer.
Held each other more.
And most importantly — we healed. Together.
Tonight was our anniversary.
I told her we were just going to have dinner. Nothing fancy. Just us, the way we liked it.
She wore a soft blue dress, her hair tied loosely with one of those satin ribbons I loved. I couldn't stop staring — because even after a hundred nights of watching her sleep next to me, she still made my heart trip over itself.
"Why are you smiling like that?" she teased, nudging my shoulder.
I just kissed the top of her hand. "You'll see."
We arrived at a little rooftop.
Not some grand hotel. Just a quiet place above our favorite bookstore.
Fairy lights were strung across the fence.
Candles flickered.
And in the middle —
a picnic blanket with her favorite cake, a speaker softly playing Azhagana Nyayiru, and photos of us clipped to tiny strings.
She froze.
"Sam… what is this?"
I took a deep breath.
"This… is us." I smiled. "The home we built between storms."
She turned to me, her eyes already glassy.
"I told you once," I said, stepping closer, "that you don't need to be perfect to be loved.
Well now I'm telling you —
You don't need to be perfect to be my forever."
I pulled a small box from my pocket.
Dropped to one knee.
And held up a silver ring with a small crescent moon on it — her favorite.
"Taara," I whispered, voice shaking,
"Even the rain loved us.
And somehow… so did time.
Will you spend forever with me — storms, softness, and all?"
She was already crying.
She dropped to her knees too — threw her arms around me, her face pressed into my neck.
"Yes," she whispered over and over again.
"Yes, yes, yes."
The music kept playing.
The lights danced around us.
And in that moment — surrounded by candlelight, laughter, and the quiet strength of everything we'd been through…
Two soft hearts, once broken,
became one forever kind of love.
…..
FINAL PART OF THE BOOK.
A year and a half later...
Mornings were no longer rushed.
There was no anxiety.
No running from silence.
Just soft blankets, a sunlit kitchen, and the sound of Ashvinn humming while pouring chai into two mismatched mugs.
"Extra sugar, right?" he asked, already knowing.
Ashviniey grinned from the hallway, wearing one of his shirts — the one that reached mid-thigh. Her hair was tied into a sleepy bun, her eyes still holding dreams from last night.
She walked over, wrapped her arms around his waist from behind, and whispered, "I'm still your favorite girl, right?"
Ashvinn turned, kissed her forehead and said,
"You were never a favorite. You've always been the only one."
💍 Wedding Flashback – 8 months ago
It wasn't a grand wedding.
No huge stage.
Just fairy lights, jasmine flowers, soft yellow sarees, and a group of close souls who knew what they'd been through.
Ashviniey walked down the aisle barefoot — because she said she wanted to feel the earth beneath her. Feel every step that led her to him.
And when she reached Ashvinn, he didn't say anything.
He just looked at her like the universe had folded itself in half to bring them together.
"I choose you," she whispered.
"Even when it rains?" he asked softly.
"Especially when it rains," she smiled.
🍼 Now — in their home
Rain tapped on the window gently.
Ashviniey was curled up on the sofa with a book, one hand absentmindedly rubbing the slight bump on her stomach.
Ashvinn came over and placed his head on her lap.
"You think she'll look like you?" he asked.
Ashviniey laughed. "I hope not. I don't want another mini drama queen in this house."
He smirked, kissed her stomach, and whispered, "Little rainflower. You're already the best thing I've never even met yet."
She blinked away soft tears.
"How did we get here?" she whispered. "After everything?"
Ashvinn looked up, brushing a strand of hair from her face.
"We didn't get here by being perfect.
We got here by choosing each other —
again,
and again,
and again."
🌧️💞
Some love stories don't begin with fire.
They begin with storms.
And survive — because the hearts inside them…
were made of quiet strength and rain-soaked promises.