When the Rain Learned Our Names

The Places I Kept Running From

(Reyan’s POV)

I never planned to stay.

Not in towns like this.

Not in cafés that remembered my order.

And definitely not with boys who looked at me like they could see through all my exits.

I’ve always been good at leaving.

When my father’s voice got too loud.

When my mother stopped asking me to come home early.

When rooms started feeling smaller than my fear.

I learned early that staying meant hurting.

So I ran.

From houses.

From people.

From myself.

That’s why the café scared me.

That’s why Aarav scared me.

The first day I walked in, I was soaked, irritated, and tired of moving without knowing why. I only wanted coffee. Somewhere warm. Somewhere temporary.

But then he looked up.

Quiet eyes. Steady hands.

The kind of calm that doesn’t ask questions but notices everything.

I told myself it was nothing.

Then I came back the next day.

And the day after that.

I started timing my steps without realizing it.

5:40 pm.

Always.

I watched the way Aarav wiped the counter like he was grounding himself. The way he listened—not waiting to speak, just listening. No one had done that for me in a long time.

That terrified me.

Because when someone listens, you start wanting to tell the truth.

I wanted to tell him:

that home never felt like home

that my bags were always half-packed

that I didn’t know how to love without planning my escape

So when I felt myself leaning closer—when I almost touched his wrist—that’s when I disappeared.

Classic me.

Those days away from the café were unbearable.

I walked past it once, rain blurring my vision, and saw the lights on. I imagined him inside, waiting. The thought made my chest ache in a way running couldn’t fix.

I went back knowing I’d ruin everything.

And maybe I did.

When I told him I was leaving town, I meant it. Leaving was easy. Staying was the part I didn’t know how to survive.

But then he came to the bus stand.

Rain-soaked. Breathless. Choosing me.

No one had ever done that before.

So when I let the bus leave without me, it wasn’t bravery.

It was surrender.

I don’t know how long I’ll stay.

I don’t know how this will end.

But when Aarav holds my hand like I’m not temporary,

I think maybe…

running isn’t the only way to stay alive.

And maybe love doesn’t always demand escape.

Sometimes, it just asks you to sit down.

At 5:40 pm.

And stay.