🌧️ Echoes of Rain
👉 " The monsoon does not only fall on rooftops 🏠☔ ,it falls on memories
too 🕊️💭." 🌿
⚡ The City Wakesto Rain
By morning, Karachi had changed its skin. Streets were rivers, rooftops dripping, and children splashing barefoot in puddles. The rain had washed away the dust, but it had also revealed the cracks beneath—the chaos of a city that learned to smile even in storms.
✨ In monsoon, the city 🏙️ learns
resilience —
broken roads , broken drains, yet
unbroken spirit ♌.
📸 Zoya's Frame of Faces
Zoya walked with her camera, searching. Her lens caught giggling children, vendors covering their carts, and a rickshaw driver singing loudly to keep his courage. Every click was a heartbeat , every face a story .
Yet, somewhere in the corner of her vision, the image of the stranger beneath the storm still lingered—his eyes , his stillness, his silence.
✨ The monsoon carries faces like
raindrops 💧_
some vanish 🌫️ , some stay
with us forever 🌈 .
🏘️ At Nida's Home
The warmth of pakoras 🥟 and chai ☕ filled the room. Laughter echoed as the two friends spoke of old memories and silly dreams. But behind Zoya's smile was a question she could not shake: Who was he, standing alone in the rain?
📱Nida :
" You and your camera 📸 — always
chasing storms 🌩️."
📱Zoya :
" Maybe storms 🌧️ are chasing me 👣."
✨ In friendship 🤝, even storms feels
lighter 🌦️ ; in silence 🤫 ,
questions grow heavier ⚖️ .
👤 The Shadow Returns
As evening fell, Zoya stepped outside again. The rain had softened, but the city still dripped with its rhythm. At the corner of the street, near the same shelter, she saw him again—the stranger. This time, he was looking at her.
Their eyes met—briefly, like lightning across a dark sky .
✨ Every monsoon hides a secret 🔑.
Sometimes , it comes in the shape of a
stranger's gaze 👁️.