When The Rain fell Twice

Chapter 6 Raindrops On Old Wounds

Morning light filtered through Arjun’s apartment curtains, casting soft gold across the room. But he hadn’t slept.

The envelope still lay on his bedside table—unopened, untouched—like a shadow that refused to leave.

Kabir knocked on the doorframe. “Still looking at it?”

Arjun didn’t answer.

Kabir sat beside him. “You know… you don’t have to open it. Not until you’re ready.”

Arjun let out a dry, humorless laugh. “I’ve been ‘not ready’ for five years.”

Kabir’s expression softened. “Then maybe it’s time.”

Arjun stared down at the envelope, tracing the edges with his thumb. His voice was barely a whisper.

“If I open it… it’ll make everything real again.”

Kabir nodded. “Sometimes healing starts with reopening the wound.”

Arjun closed his eyes.

He wasn’t ready.

But he wanted to be.

And somewhere in that confusion…

Meera’s face flashed through his mind.

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Meanwhile – Meera’s Morning

Meera stood on her balcony, sipping her ginger tea, scrolling through her camera. She paused at Arjun’s photo again.

It wasn’t just the sadness in his eyes.

It was the depth.

The story.

She felt drawn to understand it… not out of curiosity but something deeper.

Tara barged into her room without knocking.

“MEERA. Emergency.”

“What now?” Meera groaned.

Tara held up her phone dramatically. “Chai & Chapters is closing tomorrow for three days for renovation!”

Meera blinked. “…And?”

“And that means if your mysterious-rain-man wants to ‘accidentally’ run into you again, he won’t know where to find you!”

Meera rolled her eyes, but her heart did a tiny flip.

True.

What if he went there today?

“What are you suggesting?” Meera asked, suspicious.

Tara grinned. “Simple. We go. You sit. You look cute. Fate does the rest.”

“I’m not going for him,” Meera insisted.

“Of course,” Tara said, tying her hair casually. “We’re going for the tea. The vibe. Totally not the handsome architect.”

Meera gave up. “Fine. Let’s go.”

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At the Café – Fate Arrives Early

Chai & Chapters was busier than usual—everyone wanted their last cup before the renovation break.

Meera chose a quiet corner seat, setting her camera on the table. Tara ordered snacks and immediately got distracted by the cute barista.

Meera sipped her tea, pretending not to glance at the entrance every two minutes.

But she didn’t have to wait long.

The doorbell chimed.

Her breath stilled.

Arjun walked in—fresh shirt, slightly messy hair, but the same quiet depth in his eyes. He looked around, almost uncertain… almost searching.

And then he saw her.

A slow, soft recognition lit his face.

He walked toward her, each step careful, like he was approaching something fragile.

“Meera,” he said, breathless as if he had run.

“Arjun.” She smiled, trying not to show how her heartbeat raced.

He sat down across from her.

“I wasn’t sure if I’d see you again,” he admitted quietly.

“Me either.”

A short silence stretched—comfortable this time.

Then Arjun asked, “Did you… come here often?”

“Pretty often,” she nodded. “I like the stories hidden in this place.”

He smiled gently. “Makes sense. You capture stories for a living.”

Meera hesitated. “And you build them.”

Arjun’s eyes flickered with something unreadable. “Sometimes I destroy them too.”

Meera frowned slightly. “What does that mean?”

He looked down, rubbing his palms together.

“I’m dealing with something I haven’t talked about in a long time.”

Meera leaned forward—patient, open.

“You don’t have to tell me everything. But you don’t have to hide from me either.”

Arjun looked up sharply, emotion tightening in his throat.

He had no idea how she always said the exact thing he was afraid to admit.

Slowly, he reached into his coat pocket.

And placed the envelope on the table.

Meera’s eyes widened.

Arjun swallowed hard. “This letter… it came from someone I once loved. Someone I hurt. Someone who is gone now.”

Meera’s breath hitched.

Gone?

Arjun looked at the envelope like it was a piece of glass he was terrified to touch.

“I never opened it,” he whispered. “And I don’t know if I can.”

Meera felt her heart ache for him.

“Arjun,” she said softly, placing her hand near his—not touching yet, but close.

“You don’t have to open it alone.”

He exhaled shakily.

For the first time in years…

He didn’t feel alone.

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