The sky over the city was a gloomy shade of grey, and the air smelled of wet pavement. Ayesha stood under the narrow roof of a closed shop, shivering as the rain poured down in torrents. She had forgotten her umbrella again.
"Just my luck," she whispered, clutching her bag close to her chest.
Every taxi that passed by was occupied, and the streetlights began to flicker on, reflecting in the growing puddles. Just as she was about to give up and run through the rain, a sleek black car pulled up to the curb.
A tall man stepped out, holding a large, expensive-looking black umbrella. He was wearing a sharp navy-blue suit that screamed power. As he walked toward the building next to her, he stopped. His cold, sharp eyes met Ayesha's tired ones.
He looked at her drenched clothes and then at the heavy rain. Without saying a word, he stepped closer, bringing the umbrella over her head.
The sound of the rain hitting the fabric above them was loud, but for a moment, the world felt silent. The scent of expensive cologne and rain filled Ayesha's senses.
"You'll catch a cold," the man said, his voice deep and calm, like the rumble of distant thunder.
Ayesha looked up, surprised. "I... I'm just waiting for a bus."
"The buses aren't running in this weather," he replied, his gaze unwavering. "I'm Ryan. My driver can drop you home."
Ayesha hesitated. He was a stranger, but there was something in his eyes—a hidden sadness that matched the rainy night. As a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, she took a small step closer to him, safe under his umbrella.
That was the night the rain stopped being a bother, and started being a beginning.Ayesha hesitated. He was a stranger, but there was something in his eyes—a hidden sadness that matched the rainy night. As a bolt of lightning lit up the sky, she took a small step closer to him, safe under his umbrella.
"Thank you," she managed to say, her voice barely a whisper against the backdrop of the heavy downpour.
Ryan didn't look at her immediately. His gaze was fixed on the road ahead. "The world doesn't wait for the rain to stop, Miss...?"
"Ayesha. My name is Ayesha," she replied, surprised by his formal yet distant tone.
"Ayesha," he repeated. The way he said her name felt strange—like a melody played on a cello. "I am Ryan. And you shouldn't be out this late without protection. The city can be as cold as the rain."
As they stood there, the silence between them wasn't awkward. It was heavy, filled with the scent of wet earth and his expensive cologne. Ayesha looked at his hand gripping the umbrella handle. His knuckles were white, as if he were holding onto something more than just a piece of fabric.
"Why did you stop?" she asked suddenly, her curiosity getting the better of her. "People like you... in cars like that... they usually don't see people like me."
Ryan finally turned his head. Up close, his eyes weren't just cold; they were tired. "Maybe," he said softly, "I just wanted to see if someone else felt as lost in the rain as I do."
Before she could respond, his driver opened the back door of the car. Ryan gestured for her to enter. "Get in. I'll make sure you reach home safely. Consider it a shelter from the storm."
That night, as the car glided through the flooded streets, Ayesha realized that sometimes, the most beautiful stories don't start with sunshine. They start with a shared umbrella and a stranger who understands your silence.