The rain started without warning — fat drops splashing onto the film equipment as the last scene wrapped. Someone shouted about covering the lights; another cursed about the ruined microphones.
But Aarav only laughed.
"Forget it!" he called out, voice rising above the storm. "We got the take we needed!"
Crew members ran for cover, but Rhea just stood there, blinking up at the sky. Her hair clung to her cheeks, her breath visible in the cold mist.
Aarav turned and saw her — still, drenched, radiant in the dim glow of the streetlight.
For one long heartbeat, the chaos faded. There was only her.
Caught Between Rain and Silence
Rhea tucked the camera under her jacket and started toward the equipment tent. Aarav jogged over, grinning like a fool.
"You'll ruin the camera!" he said.
"It's weatherproof," she shot back, eyes glinting. "I'm not."
He reached for her hand without thinking. The warmth of his fingers startled her more than the thunder above.
"Come on," he said. "We'll get soaked."
But neither of them moved.
The rain poured harder, plastering their clothes, blurring the world around them. It was ridiculous — the kind of scene they'd both mock in a movie — and yet, standing there, it didn't feel silly at all.
It felt real.
Words Drowned in Rain
"I never thought it'd feel like this," Aarav said softly.
Rhea tilted her head. "Like what?"
"Like we're living inside a story I haven't written yet."
She laughed, but there was something fragile in it. "Don't get poetic now, director."
He stepped closer. "Can't help it. You make everything feel like a scene worth capturing."
Rhea's heart tripped. For a second, she didn't know if the warmth on her face was rain or something deeper.
"Aarav…"
But before she could find the words, he brushed a strand of wet hair from her face — a small, thoughtless gesture that said more than any script could.
A Glimpse Too Honest
Across the courtyard, under the shade of an old banyan tree, Kabir stood frozen. He'd come back to hand them the forgotten memory card, but what he saw instead rooted him to the ground.
The rain blurred everything — the outlines of two people standing too close, the glimmer of connection too sharp to miss.
He wanted to look away. He couldn't.
Rhea's laugh, Aarav's hand, the way their eyes met — it played like a film reel he'd never agreed to watch.
His chest tightened, breath catching. He knew this story; he'd read its ending long ago.
And yet, he stayed. Watching the girl he loved fall into someone else's frame.
The Quiet Exit
When the thunder finally rolled away, Aarav and Rhea ducked under the tent, dripping and laughing like children.
"That was crazy," Rhea said, wiping her face with her sleeve.
"Crazy good," Aarav corrected. "If only someone had filmed that."
She smiled faintly. "Some moments aren't meant to be filmed."
For a moment, he just looked at her — really looked. "Then I guess we'll just have to remember it."
Outside, unseen, Kabir turned away. The rain covered the sound of his quiet exhale.
He slipped the memory card into the equipment box and left without saying a word.
Later That Night
Back in the dorm editing suite, Rhea worked alone, hair still damp, fingers flying over the keyboard. The footage from that day glowed on the screen — vibrant, alive, magic in motion.
A knock at the door startled her. Aarav peeked in, holding two cups of steaming chai.
"Still working?"
"Always," she said with a smile.
He set the cups down beside her. "You're unstoppable, you know that?"
"Maybe," she murmured. "But you're the one who started all this."
He laughed softly. "Then I guess I'll take the blame."
Their hands brushed as they both reached for the same cup. Neither pulled away this time.
Meanwhile…
Kabir sat alone on the campus bleachers, rainwater dripping from his hair. His phone buzzed — a text from Rhea.
Where did you disappear? Aarav brought chai. Come join us!
He stared at the screen until the letters blurred.
His fingers hovered over the keypad. Then he typed back:
Tired. You two enjoy. Tomorrow's a big day.
He hit send before he could change his mind.
Then he leaned back and let the rain fall on his face again. Maybe if it poured hard enough, it would wash away the ache sitting heavy inside him.
Three Paths, One Sky
By midnight, the rain had stopped. The sky cleared — sharp stars cutting through the clouds.
Rhea packed her laptop, humming softly. Aarav walked her back to her hostel, umbrella in hand though neither of them used it.
When they reached the gate, she turned to him. "Aarav… what was today?"
He hesitated, smile faltering. "A good scene. One we'll probably never recreate."
She nodded, pretending to understand. But as she lay in bed later, staring at the ceiling, her heart wouldn't stop racing.
Somewhere across campus, Aarav couldn't sleep either — replaying the look in her eyes when the rain fell between them.
And in another corner, Kabir scrolled through the film's behind-the-scenes footage, pausing on a single frame — Rhea laughing, rain in her hair, Aarav standing just behind her.
He stared at it until the world blurred. Then, with trembling fingers, he deleted the clip.