was raining the day Aarav first saw Elina. The kind of rain that softened the city, turning sharp corners into poetry. Aarav was standing inside a small café, watching the world blur through the glass window, when she walked in—quiet, soaked, and carrying a book pressed to her chest like a secret.
She shook the rain from her hair, laughing softly at herself. That laugh did something strange to him. It didn't demand attention, yet it claimed it completely. She ordered coffee, her voice calm, almost musical, and chose the table near the window—the one Aarav always believed belonged to him.
Their eyes met accidentally. Just for a second. But in that second, time stretched. Aarav felt something unfamiliar—like recognition without memory. Elina smiled politely and looked away, unaware that she had just rearranged someone's world.
Minutes passed. Rain continued its rhythm. Aarav gathered courage, stood up, and walked toward her table, heart racing like a teenager's.
"Is that book good?" he asked, pointing to the cover.
Elina looked up, surprised, then smiled. "It's about finding home in unexpected places."
"Sounds dangerous," he replied.
"Only if you're afraid of getting lost," she said.
They talked until the rain stopped and the café lights turned warm and golden. Stories flowed—about childhood dreams, broken plans, favorite songs. When it was time to leave, neither wanted to say goodbye.
Outside, the rain had left the streets shining.
"Maybe we'll meet again," Elina said softly.
Aarav smiled. "I think we already have