The café had closed early that evening because of the rain. The streets were nearly empty — the kind of empty that made the world feel small and far away. Dhruve stayed behind to help Riya bring in the chairs from outside.
"Didn't think you'd still be here," she said, struggling to pull a table in through the door.
Dhruve smirked. "You think I'd leave you to do all the work?"
She laughed lightly. "Honestly? Yeah."
He shook his head, took the table from her hands, and pushed it inside. The rain hit the glass windows hard — rhythmic, constant. The scent of coffee mixed with the smell of wet soil. For a brief moment, everything outside the café faded.
When they were done, Riya leaned against the counter, breathing out. "God, what a day. I swear, people lose their minds when it rains."
Dhruve sat opposite her, running his hand through his hair. "Rain has that effect. Makes people restless. Lonely, sometimes."
She glanced at him, her expression softening. "You talk like a poet again."
He chuckled. "No. Just someone who's seen too much."
There was silence — not awkward, but heavy with thought. The rain kept playing its endless rhythm, and neither of them moved for a while.
Then Riya said quietly, "You know… I can tell you've been through something. I don't know what it is, and I won't ask. But sometimes, you look like you're not really here. Like your body's sitting here, but your mind's somewhere else entirely."
Dhruve looked at her — really looked. Her eyes weren't just curious; they were sincere. And something in that sincerity tugged at him in ways he didn't expect.
He smiled faintly. "You're perceptive."
"I notice things," she said. "Mostly people who pretend they're fine."
He gave a small, almost broken laugh. "Then you must see through half the world."
"Maybe," she said, smiling. "But some people hide it better than others."
The lights flickered once as thunder rolled outside. Riya turned to look at the window. The city beyond was just a blur of lights and shadows.
"Want me to drop you home?" Dhruve asked suddenly.
She hesitated, then smiled. "You sure? It's still pouring."
"I don't mind the rain," he said simply. "Haven't minded it in a long time."
They left the café under one umbrella, walking close together through the empty street. The rain hit their shoes, the wind brushed past their shoulders. Every few steps, their arms brushed lightly — just enough to make them both aware.
At one point, Riya looked up. "You ever think about starting over?"
Dhruve's eyes followed the path ahead. "Every day."
"Then why don't you?"
He paused. "Because starting over means letting go completely. And I'm not sure I know how."
Riya nodded, quiet for a moment. Then she said softly, "Maybe you don't have to. Maybe you just… make room for new things."
Dhruve looked at her — the way rain glistened on her face, the sincerity in her eyes.
For the first time in a long while, something inside him loosened. A feeling he couldn't name. Not love, not desire — just the strange warmth of being seen again.
When they reached her apartment, she turned to him, brushing wet hair from her face. "Thanks for walking me. You didn't have to."
He gave a small shrug. "I wanted to."
For a second, they stood there — rain falling between them, silence stretching just long enough to feel intimate.
Then she smiled. "Goodnight, Dhruve."
"Goodnight, Riya."
He watched her go inside, then stood there under the umbrella for a while longer, watching the light through her window.
When he finally walked home, he realized the rain didn't feel heavy anymore. It almost felt like it was washing something away.