When the Rain Fell Twice

Mira stood below the corrugated tin roof of her grandmother’s tea save, staring out at the unexpected downpour that had grew to become the slim village paths into muddy streams. It become the primary rain after a brutal summer time. Steam rose from the parched earth, hissing like a secret it didn’t need to share. Youngsters laughed and ran barefoot into the puddles. Vintage guys smoked and nodded to one another. However Mira simply watched.

She hadn’t deliberate to return. The village held too many memories, and maximum of them belonged to Ayan.

It had been years considering that she ultimate saw him—at the same day the rain fell for the first time that summer season. They'd sat inside the identical spot wherein she now stood, palms brushing over chipped teacups, pretending to speak approximately the climate even as warding off the phrases that truly mattered.

“I’ll wait,” he had said, voice low, “if you’re no longer certain.”

“I don’t want you to wait,” she had responded, staring at the darkening sky. “You deserve someone who chooses you with certainty.”

And he or she had left.

Now, Mira back not with fact, but with regret.

Her grandmother’s tea shop hadn’t changed. The odor of cardamom, ginger, and damp wooden still hung inside the air. The stools nevertheless wobbled. The menu still hadn’t been rewritten in years. However everything else felt overseas.

In particular the silence.

She asked round approximately Ayan. Some said he had moved to the metropolis. Others claimed he nevertheless visited the edge of the village where the river met the railway tracks. No one knew for certain.

It rained again on Friday. That become uncommon.

The monsoon not often got here twice in a unmarried week. However there it changed into: a 2nd rain, gentler this time, falling with the rhythm of a heartbeat long suppressed. Mira followed the muddy route all the way down to the river, where the rain blurred the road between water and sky.

And there he became.

Ayan stood underneath a half of-useless peepal tree, keeping a yellow umbrella that had seen higher days. His hair was longer. He had a beard now. However the way he stood—nevertheless, observant, nearly as if being attentive to the earth itself—hadn’t modified at all.

She nearly became lower back. However then he appeared up.

They didn’t speak proper away. The rain stuffed the gap among them like the words they'd by no means said.

“I didn’t assume I’d see you once more,” he eventually said, his voice slightly above the rain’s whisper.

“I didn’t think I’d come again.”

“however you probably did.”

“sure.”

“Why?”

Mira took a step closer, water soaking into her sandals. “because I found out that the typhoon never stopped. No longer honestly. It just moved interior me.”

Ayan looked away, his jaw tight. “You informed me no longer to wait.”

“I recognise,” she stated. “however you probably did anyway, didn’t you?”

He gave a gentle giggle. “a few a part of me did. Another component attempted to neglect. But on every occasion it rained, I remembered you.”

“And now that I’m right here?” she asked, preserving her breath.

He studied her face, searching for the female he once loved and the female she had turn out to be. The rain slowed to a drizzle, as though watching for his respond.

“Now,” he stated cautiously, “I want to pay attention the phrases you have been afraid to say returned then.”

She stepped under his umbrella, near enough to feel the warmth of him. “I cherished then you definately. I never stopped. I used to be just scared… of settling, of turning into someone else’s tale as opposed to writing my very own.”

“And now?”

“Now, I want to write down it with you. If you’ll still have me.”

Ayan looked at her for a protracted moment. Then, he nodded.

The rain began once more—now not in anger, but like an antique buddy back. Around them, the arena grew quiet besides for the smooth patter on the umbrella.

When the rain fell two times, Mira located her manner lower back—now not just to the village, however to herself, and to the love that had waited just like the earth waits for rain.