The Yellow Umbrella!
~“A flashback of Vihaan helping her during a school rainstorm.”~
Vihaan never liked rains.
Not because he hated getting wet.. he actually liked the smell of the mud after it rained. But because rain brought too much pause. It forced people to stop and feel. And Vihaan had always preferred staying busy.. school, homework, cycling, football.
But that day, the rain made him feel something he’d never forgotten.
He was 15. A quiet, slightly grumpy teen who liked books and hated making small talk.
The school bell rang sharp at 2:30 PM, echoing through the wet corridors. Monsoon clouds loomed like heavy thoughts in the sky. Rain lashed outside like impatient fingers tapping the world into chaos. Students stood in the corridors, groaning, holding their bags tight, waiting for the school vans to arrive.
Vihaan stood with his usual bored face, holding a bright yellow umbrella.. his mom’s. It had daisies on it. He hated it, but she had stuffed it into his bag that morning, calling it “cute.”
He didn’t know he was about to fall in love with that umbrella.
Across the corridor, under the slightly dripping shelter near the garden wall, he saw a girl.. a tiny thing in oversized spectacles, a long braid, and a dripping satchel clutched to her chest.
She was shivering. The hem of her salwar was soaked in muddy water. The guard had probably shouted at her for standing too close to the garden again.
She was trying to shield herself with a notebook. A notebook, in a rainstorm.
He’d seen her before. She was one year junior, always walking with a bunch of other girls who giggled too much. He never cared to remember their names. But this one.. she stood alone. Not loud. Not whiny. Just… there.
And he didn’t know why, but something tugged at him.
Vihaan Arora (ML)
Hey~ (he said awkwardly)
The girl looked up.. her lashes heavy with rain, her glasses fogged, her lips trembling slightly. He raised the yellow umbrella above her.
Vihaan Arora (ML)
You’ll catch a cold.
Anaya Sharma (FL)
(She blinked up at him, stunned) Um… I’m fine.
Vihaan Arora (ML)
No, you’re not.. (he said, frowning)
Vihaan Arora (ML)
Your notebook’s bleeding ink. (he joked)
She looked down. The blue ink from her front page had melted into art. She gave a small embarrassed laugh.
Anaya Sharma (FL)
I had a poem written there…
Vihaan didn’t say anything for a second.
Vihaan Arora (ML)
Wanna share this?
Anaya Sharma (FL)
(She hesitated)
Vihaan Arora (ML)
I’m not a kidnapper or something. (he added flatly, making her giggle)
Anaya Sharma (FL)
I know~ (she said softly)
Anaya Sharma (FL)
You’re in 10-B. Vihaan, right?
That stunned him. She knew his name?
Vihaan Arora (ML)
Yeah.. (He cleared his throat)
Anaya Sharma (FL)
Okay… thanks~ (she said and stepped under the umbrella)
For a moment, their arms brushed. And he remembered the warmth of that brush for weeks.
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