The sky poured silver. A steady stream of rain painted the town grey, but Zain stood at the bus stop, nervously adjusting his hoodie. His eyes kept searching the street—until he heard it.
"ZAIN!!"
He turned quickly. There she was.
Aira was sprinting through the downpour, laughing, clutching her leather bag above her head like a makeshift umbrella. Her hair was wild and soaked around her face. She looked free, childlike, and bright against the gloomy backdrop.
His breath caught.
Everything slowed for him—the raindrops dancing around her, her laugh echoing like a clear melody, the way her eyes lit up even in the storm. God, she’s beautiful. The thought hit him harder than he ever expected.
She finally reached the shelter of the bus stop, panting, still giggling.
"I forgot my umbrella!
