The rain didn't stop for two days.
It came down in slow sheets, turning the city into a blur of gray and silver. Dhruve sat by his usual window in the café, the same cup of black coffee in front of him, steam curling lazily into the air.
Riya wiped down a nearby table, humming under her breath. He didn't recognize the tune, but there was something calming about it — like background noise for a life that kept moving.
She noticed him looking. "You know, most people get bored sitting in silence," she said, grinning as she walked over.
"I've had enough noise to last a lifetime," Dhruve replied.
Riya chuckled. "Fair. But silence can be loud too, you know?"
He gave a faint smile. "Yeah. Tell me about it."
She leaned against the counter, curious. "You look like someone who used to talk a lot but forgot how."
That hit closer than she probably meant it to. He looked at her for a second — really looked. Her hair was messy again, her eyes alert but tired, and her smile… it wasn't forced. He'd forgotten what a genuine smile looked like.
"Maybe I just ran out of things worth saying," he said finally.
She studied him, as if she wanted to ask more, but instead said quietly, "Then maybe you're not talking to the right people."
For a moment, the air between them changed — not romantic, not dramatic — just real.
He looked down at his coffee, hiding a smirk. "You always this philosophical before noon?"
"Only when it rains," she said, walking away.
The day passed slower than usual. Dhruve stayed longer than he meant to. It wasn't about the coffee anymore; it was about… not wanting to leave.
The sound of rain, the hum of conversation, Riya's occasional glances — all of it felt strangely grounding.
When he finally stood up to go, Riya called out from behind the counter, "Hey! You forgot your umbrella."
He turned. "I didn't bring one."
She sighed dramatically and tossed him hers. "Take it. I've got a spare."
He hesitated. "You sure?"
"Yeah. Just don't vanish tomorrow like you always do when it rains."
He caught the umbrella and gave her a small nod. "Thanks."
As he stepped outside, the rain softened to a drizzle. He opened the umbrella, half expecting it to break — but it didn't. It was sturdy. Blue with a faint floral pattern on the edge.
He couldn't help but smile a little.
That night, he found himself checking his phone — not for messages from Priya, but for… something else. He didn't even know what.
He typed a few words in his notes app:
"Sometimes, kindness feels heavier than love."
He stared at the sentence for a while before locking the screen.
The next morning, he went back — same time, same table. Riya raised an eyebrow when she saw him. "Wow. You actually showed up. I'm impressed."
"You said not to vanish," he said, pretending to sound indifferent.
She smirked. "I didn't think you'd listen."
He took his seat, and for the first time in a long while, Dhruve felt something close to… ease.
The coffee was the same. The world was the same. But maybe, just maybe, he wasn't.
When he got home that evening, the apartment still felt empty — but now it was a different kind of empty. Not grief. Not loss. Just space.
He opened the window, let the cool air in, and thought,Maybe I can live with this.