Chapter 5: First Walk, First Touch

Whisper In the rain

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The rain had finally stopped.

It was a rare clear evening in the city, the sky painted in gentle pinks and purples. The streets still glistened with fresh memories of rain, and puddles reflected tiny lights like scattered stars. Ayan and Misha stood just outside the café, reluctant to say goodbye.

“It’s strange,” Misha said, looking up at the sky. “The world looks so different after the rain. Like it’s been washed clean.”

Ayan nodded, his hands in his pockets. “Kind of like us.”

She turned to him, curious. “Us?”

He smiled softly. “I don’t know… it feels like something began with that first rain. And now, every moment with you feels like a new start.”

Misha looked down, blushing lightly. “You’re really good with words, Ayan.”

“Only when it’s about you,” he said, without hesitation.

She didn’t reply, but her smile said enough.

They started walking slowly, their steps in sync without trying. The air was cool, fresh, and carried the scent of damp earth and blossoms. Ayan noticed how Misha’s hand brushed close to his every few steps. He wondered—should he hold her hand? Would she mind? His heart thumped just a little louder.

Misha broke the silence, “Do you believe in signs?”

Ayan raised an eyebrow. “Like destiny and fate?”

She nodded. “Yeah. Like, maybe we were meant to meet in that café, on that exact day, in that rain.”

He thought about it. “I don’t know. But if fate brought you to me… I’m grateful to it.”

She glanced at him, her eyes soft. Then, without a word, she reached out and gently slipped her hand into his.

Ayan froze for a second—just a second—and then smiled as if the stars had whispered something only he could hear. Her hand was warm, delicate, but it fit perfectly into his.

They walked like that for a while, not saying much, just listening to the world breathe around them. The city had quieted down, and it felt like they were the only two people who mattered.

Suddenly, Misha stopped near a street vendor selling flowers. She pointed at a tiny bunch of white daisies.

“That’s my favorite,” she said.

Ayan stepped forward, bought the flowers, and without a word, tucked one daisy gently into her hair.

“Now it looks like it was always meant to be there,” he whispered.

Misha looked at him, completely still, her eyes reflecting more than just city lights. She didn’t need to say anything—he already knew what that look meant.

No confession yet. No label. No pressure.

Just two hearts taking their time, one step, one touch, one flower at a time.

As they reached her home, Misha turned to him and said, “I’m glad it rained that day.”

Ayan smiled, brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Me too.”

And under the moonlight, with quiet hearts and tangled fingers, they began writing the next chapter—without even realizing it.

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