It had been three months since Aarav's surprise visit.
Mumbai no longer felt foreign to Meher. The city's chaos had become a background to their love story — deadlines, traffic jams, and late-night walks along the monsoon-soaked streets.
Aarav had stayed longer than anyone expected. His office had been flexible, allowing him to spend weekdays in the city with her.
The seventeenth arrived quietly again.
This time, there was no panic. No missed calls. No distance to bridge.
Meher and Aarav sat by the window of their shared apartment, sipping coffee, watching the rain pour gently outside.
"Do you remember the first seventeenth?" Aarav asked, smiling.
"How could I forget?" she laughed softly. "The rain, the bus stop… the chaos."
He took her hand. "We've come a long way."
"And we've survived every storm," she added, leaning her head on his shoulder.
The rain fell softly, a gentle melody against the glass.
"No more waiting for the seventeenth," Aarav whispered.
"No more tests," she replied.
Just love. Simple. Real.
Outside, the city moved, people rushed, and life went on.
Inside, two hearts had finally found their rhythm.
And sometimes, that was enough.
The rain continued. Not as a symbol. Not as destiny.
Just life.
And they were ready to live it together.