Under The Same Moon

UNDER THE SAME MOON Episode 1 — The First Collision 🌧️🌙 Mumbai looked different in the rain. The city lights blurred through the storm like broken stars melting into the streets. Cars rushed past, splashing muddy water onto crowded footpaths while thunder echoed across the skyline. Kiara Deshmukh stood under the tiny shade of a closed café, hugging her bag tightly against her chest. “Perfect,” she muttered under her breath. “Absolutely perfect.” Her cab had cancelled. Her phone battery was dying. And the rain looked nowhere close to stopping. She pushed her wet hair away from her face and sighed dramatically. First week in Mumbai and the city was already trying to kill her. “Excuse me!” A biker almost splashed water on her again. “ARE YOU BLIND?” she shouted angrily. The biker sped away laughing. “i***t!” she yelled. A few people nearby turned to look at her. Kiara instantly cleared her throat and pretended nothing happened. “Very classy, Kiara,” she whispered to herself. The truth was… she hated feeling lost. Back in Pune, life felt predictable. Safe. But Mumbai? Mumbai was loud. Fast. Unforgiving. And deep inside, she knew she wasn’t here just for college. She was here to run away from memories. From expectations. From the silence inside her own house after her parents stopped talking to each other like they used to. Her chest tightened slightly at the thought. She quickly looked away, forcing herself back into the present. Rainwater dripped from the edge of the café roof. The streets smelled of wet concrete and cigarette smoke. That’s when she heard music. A guitar. Soft. Distant. Beautiful. Kiara frowned slightly. At this hour? Curious, she stepped away from the café and followed the sound through a narrow lane beside an old building. The deeper she walked, the quieter the city became. Until she finally stopped in front of a half-open door glowing with warm yellow light. A music studio. The guitar melody grew louder now. Slow. Emotional. Painfully beautiful. Without thinking, she pushed the door slightly open. And froze. A boy sat alone near the window, holding a black guitar. Rain tapped softly against the glass behind him. His head was lowered, dark wet hair falling over his forehead while his fingers moved effortlessly across the strings. He looked… unreal. Not because he was handsome. But because he looked broken. Like someone carrying too many storms inside him. Kiara didn’t realize she was staring until the music suddenly stopped. The boy slowly looked up. Dark eyes. Sharp jawline. Expression cold enough to make her heart skip. For a second, neither of them spoke. Then— “Enjoying the show?” he asked flatly. His voice snapped her back to reality. “Oh— I— sorry,” Kiara stammered awkwardly. “The door was open and I heard music and—” “Congratulations.” She blinked. “You heard music.” Excuse me? Kiara narrowed her eyes immediately. Wow. Arrogant. “Okay wow,” she crossed her arms. “Do you talk to everyone like this or am I just special?” The boy stared at her blankly. “You talk too much.” Kiara almost gasped. “You don’t even know me!” “And I already have a headache.” Her jaw dropped. Who even was this guy?! Before she could reply, thunder shook the building loudly. The lights flickered once. Then everything went dark. “Great,” Kiara whispered. The storm outside intensified instantly. She pulled out her phone and realized it had officially died. “No no no no—” Another lightning strike flashed through the room. For a brief second, she saw him standing up from the chair. Tall. Broad shoulders. Black shirt slightly wet from rain. And tattoos visible near his neck. Dangerous. That was the first word that entered her mind. Dangerous. A small candle suddenly lit up near the table. Warm light filled the room softly. He placed the lighter down without looking at her. “You can wait here until the rain stops,” he said calmly. Kiara hesitated. Every logical thought in her brain screamed not to trust random men in abandoned music studios during thunderstorms. But outside looked worse. “Thanks,” she said quietly. He simply nodded and sat back down. The silence became awkward almost instantly. Kiara looked around the studio. Old vinyl records. Instruments. Empty coffee cups. And photographs pinned on the wall. Most of them were concert pictures. Crowds. Stage lights. Music festivals. She slowly walked closer. Then paused. One photo caught her attention. It was him. On stage with a guitar. Thousands of people screaming below. Her eyes widened slightly. Wait. No way. “You’re Aarav Malhotra?” He looked irritated immediately. “That depends.” “On what?” “Whether you’re about to become annoying.” Kiara rolled her eyes dramatically. “Well excuse me, Mr. Rockstar.” Aarav leaned back lazily in his chair. “You don’t look impressed.” “That’s because I’m not.” For the first time, something changed in his expression. Amusement. Tiny. Barely visible. But there. Most girls recognized him instantly. Most either flirted, stared, or tried too hard to impress him. This girl looked ready to fight him. Interesting. Kiara walked back toward the candlelight. “So what are you doing here alone?” “Existing.” “You always answer like a psychopath?” “You always ask unnecessary questions?” “Wow. You’re actually impossible.” “And yet you’re still talking.” Kiara opened her mouth to argue again but stopped herself. Why was this irritatingly attractive man making her lose arguments every five seconds? Outside, rain crashed harder against the windows. Aarav picked up his guitar again. “You play?” he asked suddenly. Kiara blinked. “Huh?” “Music.” “Oh. No.” “Then why were you staring at my guitar like it owes you money?” She laughed accidentally. A soft, genuine laugh. And for some strange reason, Aarav’s fingers paused on the strings. Because the sound of her laughter felt warm. Too warm. Dangerously warm. Kiara noticed him staring. “What?” “Nothing.” But it wasn’t nothing. Not at all. For the next hour, they talked. Or more accurately— They argued. About music. About Mumbai traffic. About whether pineapple belonged on pizza. About people pretending to be deep on i********:. And somewhere between sarcasm and teasing, the atmosphere slowly changed. The tension softened. Kiara found herself smiling more than she had in weeks. Aarav found himself listening to someone without wanting them to leave. Neither of them noticed how quickly time passed. Until Kiara checked the clock. “Oh my God.” “What?” “It’s almost 2 a.m.!” “So?” “So I’m going to get murdered if I don’t reach my hostel.” “That dramatic?” “You clearly haven’t met Indian aunties.” Aarav smirked faintly. “There’s your cab.” She looked outside. A taxi had finally stopped near the road. Kiara grabbed her bag quickly. “Thank God.” She moved toward the door before suddenly stopping. Then turned back slightly. “Thanks… for letting me stay.” Aarav looked at her quietly. The candlelight reflected softly in his eyes now. “No problem.” For one strange second, neither moved. The air felt heavy suddenly. Like something invisible existed between them now. Something unfinished. Kiara looked away first. “Bye, Rockstar.” Aarav’s lips twitched slightly. “Bye, Problem.” She laughed softly before disappearing into the rain. The studio became silent again. But somehow… Different. Aarav stared at the closed door for a long moment. Then looked down at his guitar. His fingers slowly touched the strings. A new melody formed in his mind. Soft. Restless. Beautiful. Just like her. And somewhere outside, beneath the stormy Mumbai sky… Kiara sat inside the cab looking back toward the studio window. She didn’t know his story. Didn’t know why his eyes looked so lonely. Didn’t know why meeting him felt important. But for the first time in months… Her heart felt awake again. And neither of them realized it yet— But that rainy night had already changed everything. 🌙