Letters of the Rain

The rain had always been Aisha's best friend. She always thought that with the rain, it brought with it a sort of nostalgia, as though every drop carried whispers of forgotten dreams. That was why she preferred writing sessions in that little quaint café by the lake, especially on rainy afternoons.

It was on one such afternoon that she first noticed him: a tall figure with untidy hair and a notebook tucked under his arm. He seemed like a complete stranger among the usual friends and couples, but yet his gaze remained stuck at the raindrops sliding down the glass windows as if searching for answers.

Aisha's curiosity got the better of her. She watched as he flipped open his notebook and began to write furiously, pausing every now and then to glance outside. A week passed, then two, and without fail, he was always there, writing as though his life depended on it.

One day, summoning all her courage, Aisha approached his table. "Mind if I join you?" she asked softly but steadily. He looked up, startled, and for the first time she saw his eyes—a mystery blend of warmth.

"Yes," he said after a moment, gesturing to the chair opposite him.

"I'm Aisha," she introduced herself, setting her cup of coffee down. "I couldn't help but notice you're always writing here. What's the story?" His smile faltered. "I'm Kabir, and it's not a story. it's letters. To someone I lost." Aisha felt her heart clench within her chest. "Sorry" she said in barely audible sound. Kabir shook his head. "It's fine. Writing to her is what keeps her memory living.

Weeks passed, and their conversations became more deep. Kabir shared his letters with bits of writing that had such a deep love inside that left an ache in the chest of Aisha. Aisha, on her side, shared her poems and stories and pieces of her dreams and heartaches.

Rain became their constant. Every drop seemed to seal their bond, their words flowing like streams merging into a river. Yet, an unspoken line remained between them, a boundary neither dared to cross.

One day, the rain was heavier than ever. As the café emptied, Kabir handed Aisha a small envelope. “Read it when you’re home,” he said, his eyes holding a strange mix of hope and fear.

That night, Aisha opened the envelope. Inside was a single letter:

Dear Aisha,I never thought I’d write another letter to someone new. But you’ve shown me that love doesn’t have to end with loss. You’ve brought light back into my life, and I’m grateful for every moment we’ve shared. If you’re willing, I’d like to write the next chapter of my story with you.

Tears blurred Aisha's vision as she finished reading. The rain outside her window seemed to echo the rhythm of her heart. Without hesitation, she grabbed her umbrella and rushed to the café.

There he was, waiting, his notebook open but untouched. Aisha stepped in, her presence breaking the silence.

"Let's write it together," she said, her voice trembling but resolute.

Kabir had one of those smiles that could lighten the blackest of skies. As the raindrops gushed all around them, they finally realized sometimes love isn't about leaving but finding a person to help you carry the luggage of memories, adding some more of it on its way.