The rain had just begun to fall when Ayaan saw her.
Dhaka always changed its soul during the monsoon. The streets shimmered like broken mirrors, the air smelled of wet earth and promises, and the city breathed slower, softer. Ayaan stood under the narrow shade of a café awning, fingers wrapped around a cup of untouched coffee, when she walked past him—slowly, almost carefully—as if the world might break if she hurried.
Her name, he would later learn, was Elara.
She wore a simple white dress, now kissed by the rain, clinging gently to her like a secret meant only for the sky. A few strands of her dark hair escaped and rested against her cheeks. When she looked up, her eyes met his—deep, curious, unafraid. In that moment, something unspoken passed between them, something warm and dangerous.
Ayaan had always believed love announced itself loudly. But this… this was silent. Soft. Like a whisper slipping into his chest and refusing to leave.
She smiled. Not a polite smile, not a practiced one—but the kind that felt like an invitation.
"Is the rain always this romantic here?" she asked, stepping closer, her voice calm yet stirring.
"Only when it wants to change someone's life," Ayaan replied before he could stop himself.
Her laughter was quiet, but it stayed with him long after the rain blurred the world around them