The rain had just started when Aira stepped onto the balcony, the city lights below blurring into soft gold streaks. She wrapped her arms around herself, not from the cold—but from the strange ache in her chest. She didn’t expect him to follow.
“You always run to the rain,” Zayan said softly, leaning against the doorway. His voice carried that calm warmth she tried so hard to ignore.
“It helps me think,” she replied, not turning around.
A pause. Then footsteps. Closer.
“Or maybe… you’re trying not to feel.”
Her breath caught. He was too close now—close enough that she could feel the warmth of him behind her, the quiet tension in the air. Slowly, she turned. Their eyes met, and everything else faded.
“You don’t understand,” she whispered.
“Then let me,” he said, his voice lower now, almost a promise.
The rain picked up, droplets catching in her hair, sliding down her cheek. Without thinking, he reached out, brushing it away. His touch lingered longer than it should have.
Electric.
Aira’s heart raced. “Zayan…”
He didn’t let her finish. “I’ve tried to stay away,” he admitted, his eyes searching hers. “But every time you look at me like this… I forget every reason why I should.”
Silence. Heavy. Burning.
Then she stepped closer.
“Maybe,” she said softly, “you shouldn’t remember.”
That was all it took.
He pulled her in, slowly at first, giving her time to pull away—but she didn’t. Their lips met in a quiet storm, soft yet full of everything they had been holding back. The rain soaked them, but neither cared.
In that moment, nothing existed except the heat between them.
And neither of them wanted it to end.
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