3

The monsoon arrived early that year. The skies stayed gray for days, and the air smelled of wet soil and new beginnings.

Akriti loved the rain. It made everything look softer — the trees, the roads, even people’s faces.

One morning, she stood near the classroom window, watching the rain pour outside. Most students were busy chatting, but she was lost in the rhythm of the drops hitting the glass.

“Dreaming again?”

She turned. It was Aarav, smiling with his umbrella in hand.

Akriti laughed softly. “You always find me near windows.”

“And you always look like you’re searching for something outside them,” he replied.

She didn’t answer. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was searching — for peace, for freedom, for something unnamed.

---

When the class ended, the rain was heavier. Students ran outside with bags over their heads. Akriti stood at the door, waiting, unsure whether to run or stay.

Aarav came beside her and opened his umbrella. “Come, I’ll drop you near the bus stop.”

She hesitated. “It’s okay, I’ll go later.”

He looked at her with a teasing smile. “Then I’ll also wait. No fun walking alone.”

She laughed quietly and stepped under the umbrella. The world outside smelled of rain and mud. Puddles covered the road, and the sound of water filled the air.

They walked slowly, careful not to slip. Once, she almost lost balance, and Aarav caught her hand.

“Careful,” he said, holding it for a moment too long.

Their eyes met — for just a few seconds — but something changed between them in that small silence. Her heart started beating faster, and she quickly looked away.

“Thank you,” she whispered.

“Anytime,” he replied softly.

---

At the bus stop, they waited under a small tin roof. Rain was falling hard, and their shoes were wet. Aarav shook his head, water dripping from his hair, and laughed.

Akriti couldn’t help smiling. “You look like a wet puppy.”

“Wow, thank you,” he said playfully. “That’s a nice compliment.”

She laughed, covering her mouth. “Sorry!”

He looked at her — the way she laughed freely for the first time — and said, “You should smile more often. It suits you.”

Her laughter faded into a shy smile. “You say things easily.”

“I only say what’s true,” he replied.

For a while, they said nothing. They just stood there, watching people run through the rain, listening to the sound of thunder. It was peaceful — like the whole world had slowed down for them.

Then Aarav spoke again. “Do you ever wish time would stop?”

“Sometimes,” Akriti said. “Especially during moments like this.”

“Same,” he said softly.

Their bus arrived, splashing water on the road. Akriti turned to him and said, “Thank you for walking with me.”

He smiled. “Always.”

She stepped onto the bus and looked back through the window. Aarav was still standing there, waving slightly, his umbrella tilted against the wind. She waved back before the bus moved away.

---

That night, Akriti couldn’t stop smiling. She replayed every small moment — the walk, the laughter, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her.

Her mother noticed and asked, “What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing, Maa,” Akriti said quickly.

But inside, she knew — it wasn’t “nothing.” It was him.

She sat by the window again, watching the rain still falling. It felt like the same rhythm she had heard when she walked beside Aarav — gentle, alive, endless.

She wrote in her diary:

> “Today, I laughed without fear. Maybe love starts like rain — slowly, quietly, until it covers everything.”

---

The next day at college, Aarav waved at her near the canteen.

“Morning,” he said. “I saved a seat for you.”

They sat together for lunch — something they’d never done before. Their friendship started to feel stronger, more real. Other students noticed them but didn’t say anything.

When they talked, the world seemed far away.

Sometimes they shared food, sometimes silence, but it all felt natural — like it was meant to be.

---

One afternoon, when she was leaving for class, Aarav handed her a folded note.

“Don’t read it now,” he said. “Read it when you get home.”

She nodded, curious.

Later that night, after everyone had slept, Akriti opened the note.

Inside were just a few simple words:

> “You make the world feel lighter. Thank you for being my friend.”

Akriti smiled through her tears. She pressed the note to her chest and whispered,

> “You make mine brighter too, Aarav.”

she realized — this friendship had already turned into something deeper. Something her heart could no longer hide.