A sudden gust of wind blew through the park, sending raindrops heavier against them. Meera squealed as a bigger splash hit her shoulder, and Harsh laughed.
"Careful, Mira," he teased. "Or the rain might wash away all your drama."
"I'm fine!" she protested, though her wet hair stuck to her face, and she shivered despite herself.
Harsh grinned, grabbing her hand and pulling her toward a bigger puddle. "Oh really? Let's test that theory."
Before she could react, he jumped into the puddle, water splashing all over her. Meera squealed again, trying to dodge, but Harsh was already laughing, his wet hair plastered to his forehead, droplets sliding down his face.
"You're… cruel!" she shouted, though she was laughing, too.
"Cruel? No, no," he said, pretending to be serious. "I'm just… enhancing your rain experience. Consider it… quality time."
Meera crossed her arms, mock glaring at him. "Quality time? You just made me soak completely!"
Harsh stepped closer, his damp sleeve brushing hers. "Soaked together, right? That makes it better. Shared misery is funnier, or so I read somewhere."
She rolled her eyes but felt a flutter in her chest. "You're ridiculous."
"I know," he said softly, smirking down at her. "But you like it."
Meera shook her head, laughing despite herself. "I do not."
"Yeah? Then explain why you're not running away." He leaned just slightly closer, their wet sleeves brushing.
"I… I'm not scared of water," she muttered, her cheeks heating up.
"Uh-huh," he teased, "sure. Not scared. And I'm guessing the reason you're still here is… because you enjoy my company?"
Meera groaned, ducking her head, "Stop it, Harsh. You're impossible."
He laughed, tucking a wet strand of her hair behind her ear. "Impossible? I prefer the term… memorably charming."
And in that soaked, rainy park, with their laughter mingling with the soft patter of rain, Meera felt something light and thrilling—Harsh wasn't just sarcastic, teasing, or strict; he was the one who made her heart skip in the quiet, messy, perfect moments.
Even in the rain.
By the time the rain slowed, both of them were dripping wet. Harsh squinted at the darkening sky.
"Looks like the universe wants to keep us drenched," he said, tugging Meera gently by the hand.
"I could've gone home and changed," she muttered, shivering slightly.
"Not on my watch," he replied, smirking. "You look… adorable like this. Wet hair, pink cheeks, and a tiny puddle of attitude."
Meera rolled her eyes but couldn't stop the small laugh escaping her.
They walked to a nearby café, the steam from the building's warm interior fogging up the windows. Once inside, Harsh helped her take off her wet jacket and hung it carefully. He even offered his scarf, which Meera accepted with a teasing glare.
"Are you trying to make me indebted to you now?" she asked, wrapping it around her neck.
"Maybe," he said, grinning. "Or maybe I'm just enjoying watching you get all cozy."
They found a small corner table, and Harsh ordered two hot chocolates, topped with whipped cream. He placed hers in front of her carefully, then his own, and sat down, leaning back.
"You know," he said casually, "I could've called this a date. Rain, hot chocolate, sarcasm included."
Meera raised an eyebrow. "Really? You'd call it a date?"
"Yeah," he said, pretending to ponder. "Except I like to leave some things… mysterious. Keeps life interesting."
She laughed softly, stirring her chocolate. "You're impossible."
"And yet," he said, leaning slightly closer, "you're still here. So clearly, impossible isn't that bad."
Meera looked up at him, meeting his eyes, her heart skipping. "You're enjoying this way too much, aren't you?"
"Maybe," he admitted, smirking. "But you know you love it."
"I do not," she argued, though her smile betrayed her.
Harsh laughed, and for a moment, the world felt small—just them, the warmth of the café, the chocolate between their fingers, and the gentle teasing that made Meera's heart race.
Even with sarcasm and playfulness, she felt safe, happy, and… a little bit in love.
The next morning, Meera's phone buzzed while she was walking to class.
It was Rohan.
"Meera… I need to tell you something. Can we meet?"
Her heart skipped. She replied with a quick "Sure."
When she saw him a few minutes later, he looked unusually serious. No teasing smile, no playful attitude—just him, staring at her.
"I… I really like you," he said, his voice soft but firm. "And I'm ready… I want to be your boyfriend."
For a moment, Meera froze. All the doubts, the past frustrations, the toxic little games—she forgot them. All that mattered was that he was standing there, looking at her like this.
She felt a rush of emotions, her lips curving into a small smile.
"Okay," she whispered. "Let's… try. Let's see if this works."
Rohan's face lit up, and he stepped closer, holding her hand gently. "I won't mess this up. I promise."
Meera felt her heart beat faster, excitement mingled with nervousness. Today, she had decided to give Rohan a chance—but little did she know that Harsh's feelings and their bond weren't going to disappear that easily.