I whisper the rain

Rain always meant something Ayaan. As a child, he imagined a drop of singing songs - a rhythmic, calm song of longing and hope. Well, at age 27, the same raindrops fell in the same melody turning Dhaka, but the meaning is different. Because every time it rained, he remembered Zara.

You met at Monsun three years ago. Ayaan was protected under the awnings of an old bookstore and escaped the sudden downpour. It seemed - sealed, laughing, her eyes were like fire, running in a storm. She asked without hesitation: "When I close, will you do?"

This first laugh, like her eyes were wrinkled - he was beaten before he even knew her name.

"I am ayaan," he said.

"Zarah," she replied with water from her hair and shook her. "It appears that the rain was planning our meeting."

It seemed like fate. Over the next few weeks they met again and again - cafes, parks, and even university libraries, they were students. It was as if Dhaka was conspired to unite her.

Your first date was easy - walking through the bee gel under the gray sky and ice in your hands. Zara spoke about books and dreams. She wanted to open a school for the underprivileged children. Ayaan heard something fascinating. He spoke about his work in graphic design, traveled through his wishes, and overcome his fear of what he had in common.

"You're not normal," she said. "Normal people don't dream with their eyes open"

They were different, but perfect. She was on fire; he was quiet. She danced in the rain. He preferred to watch her dance. But the love they found lived in these small differences.

For a year they were inseparable. They had their favorite spots - in the business of a small biryani in old Dhaka, roofs with views of the city's light, and banks near the university pond, once saw stray cats in the Zara circle. Every moment was sewn in with laughter and gentle comfort.

But life is rarely quiet like the weather.

Zara received a scholarship to study education in London. That was all she worked on. But that meant going. Select.

"I cannot ask you to wait," she said the night she told him. "That's not fair."

Ayaan smiled, but his heart broke.

"You don't need to ask," he replied. "I will wait. Even if the sky forgets, I will wait."

They separated from the tears, promises, and silver chains Zara had given him. "To remember me," she whispered.

The first few months were endured. They cried, written, and shared the sunrise through photographs and poems. But distance is a cruel private tutor. The time zone has been expanded. Shortening of calls. Her voice escaped, despite her never being cold. Ayaan could feel something slipped in - but he held him tightly.

One day, the news stopped. It was a few weeks. He sent the final text - "I hope you're fine. I'll miss you" - and in return he was silent.

He didn't know why she went without words. She had disappeared like a dream at dawn.

Ayaan didn't stop waiting. He visited her bank every Friday. He had a chain. He read her favourite book again. The friend tells him he should continue, but love doesn't go any further - it takes root deeply.

passed for two years.

At this time, he changed. Inspired by her dreams, she began to voluntarily report to a local shelter. He pulled again - Zara, rain, rain portrait of a child. The pain didn't work, but he softened and became a part of him.

Then he heard the well-known laughter of another rainy afternoon old book trade. He turned almost incredibly.

Zara stood there, dipped her umbrella in her hand, and laughed intently.

"You seem to have seen the spirit," she teased.

"I thought I had," he whispered in breath.

They sat under the same awning, which was older and older, but not strange.

"I tried to call," she said quietly. "But my dad got sick. I had to do two jobs. I lost the phone. After that...it felt too late. "

"It was never too late," he replied.

"For You Only."

You are not pushed back into love. They spoke. went. It reminds me. forgive. Love, true love, patient.

Six months later, Ayaan stood for an introduction to a small school in a village outside Dhaka next to Zara. The signature was "Study at the Zara Foundation." The kids laughed around them, and the sky threatened the rain again.

She fell as the first drop, and she turned to him. "Do you know what rain means?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "It means we have found a way back."

EPILOG

. School grew up just like her love. They married under an open sky surrounded by children who taught them and encouraged them. Ayaan's art filled the school's walls while Zara's voice filled her halls. They traveled, simply lived, and often laughed.

and all the monsoons, without fail, sit under the awnings of an old bookstore - holding hands, hearts still heard the rain.