A Farewell in the Rain
It was raining.
The narrow streets of Dhaka looked like they were drowning in grey mist and cold water. The air was thick, not just with moisture—but with memory.
Naila sat alone in a corner of the old café. The same café where love had once bloomed. A book was open in her hands, but her eyes weren't on the pages.
Five years. That's how long it had been.
Suddenly, a shadow fell across her table.
She looked up, and her heart skipped a beat.
"Niloy?" her voice cracked.
He gave a gentle smile. "Yes… it's me. May I sit?"
She didn't answer—just nodded slightly. And in that silence, time stood still.
"How are you?" he asked, trying to sound casual.
"I'm fine," she replied softly.
A pause. Then the question he'd been holding in his chest:
"Are you married?"
She looked at him once and said, "No. I'm not."
Silence returned. Only the sound of rain tapping against the window remained.
Niloy sat across from her, eyes searching her face.
"I wasn't right back then," he began. "I thought love meant running away to fix everything first. But I was wrong. You needed me there, not later."
She didn't speak.
"I've come back," he continued. "If you still want me… I'll stay. This time, I'll never leave."
For a long moment, she said nothing. Then she looked at him and smiled—but it was the kind of smile that hurt more than tears.
"I don't blame you anymore, Niloy."
"Then…?"
"You came back in the rain. Just like you left in the rain. Maybe that's how our story was meant to be—starting in rain, ending in rain."
Niloy looked away. His throat tightened, no words came out.
Naila stood up slowly, adjusting her bag on her shoulder.
"Take care, Niloy. You don't have to come back again. This time, it's really goodbye."
And she walked out.
Niloy just sat there, frozen. The seat across from him still warm, but empty.
Outside, the rain continued. A forgotten cup of tea sat
on the table, growing colder, collecting drops of memory.