The first time Aarav saw Meera, it was raining.
Not the loud, stormy kind of rain—but the soft, gentle drizzle that makes the world feel quieter. Aarav was standing at a small tea stall near the railway station, waiting for the rain to slow down. He didn't like rain much. It reminded him of old memories he tried to forget.
That's when she appeared.
She was holding a blue umbrella, struggling to close it as the wind pushed against her. A few strands of her hair stuck to her cheeks, and she laughed softly at her own struggle. Aarav didn't know why, but he couldn't stop looking at her.
"Excuse me," she said, smiling politely. "Can you hold this for a second?"
Before he could answer, she handed him the umbrella and adjusted her bag. Aarav stood there, awkward but strangely happy.
"Thank you," she said. "I'm Meera."
"Aarav," he replied, almost forgetting his own name.
They ended up sharing tea under the small shade of the stall. What started as a simple conversation about the weather slowly turned into stories about dreams, favorite books, and childhood memories.
Meera loved the rain. She said it made her feel alive.
Aarav used to love the rain too—until the day someone he loved left him in the middle of a rainy evening. Since then, rain only reminded him of goodbye.
But that day felt different.
After that evening, they kept meeting. Sometimes by accident. Sometimes on purpose. The tea stall became their place. The rain became their excuse.
Days turned into weeks. Weeks turned into months.
Aarav found himself smiling more. Laughing more. Living more.
Meera had a way of seeing through him. When he was quiet, she didn't force him to speak. When he was worried, she simply sat beside him. Her presence felt like peace.
One evening, as the sky turned orange and pink, Meera looked at him seriously.
"I might have to leave," she said softly.
Aarav's heart stopped.
"My job… they're transferring me to another city."
The words felt heavier than the rainclouds above them.
"When?" he asked.
"Next week."
Silence fell between them. The same silence he once feared. The same fear of losing someone in the rain.
"I don't want to say goodbye like this," Aarav whispered.
Meera smiled gently. "Then don't think of it as goodbye."
The last day came too quickly. And just like the first time they met, it was raining.
They stood at the railway station. The sound of the train approaching echoed in the background.
"I used to hate the rain," Aarav said. "It reminded me of losing someone."
Meera looked at him, her eyes shining. "And now?"
"Now it reminds me of finding you."
She stepped closer and held his hand.
"Distance doesn't end love, Aarav. It tests it."
The train stopped. People rushed around them. Time felt unfair.
"I'll come back," she promised.
Aarav wanted to be strong, but his voice trembled. "I'll wait."
She got on the train. The doors closed. The train slowly moved away.
Aarav stood there, letting the rain soak his shirt. But this time, he wasn't sad in the same way. The rain didn't feel like an ending.
It felt like hope.
Months passed. Calls, messages, late-night talks kept them connected. It wasn't easy. Some days were harder than others. But neither of them gave up.
Then one evening, when the rain began to fall again, Aarav heard a familiar voice behind him.
"Still waiting at the tea stall?"
He turned around.
Meera stood there, without an umbrella this time, smiling through the rain.
"I told you I'd come back," she said.
Aarav walked toward her, his heart beating fast.
"And I told you I'd wait."
This time, when it rained, it didn't bring goodbye.
It brought her back.
And under the soft falling rain, they realized that sometimes love doesn't need perfect timing—just two people willing to hold on.