THE RAIN
The storm had come out of nowhere—much like the second wave of COVID that now sent students scrambling across campus, suitcases bumping over wet pavement, goodbyes swallowed by the drumming rain.
Diya stood frozen in her half-packed room, fingers clutching the edge of her suitcase.
This wasn't how it was supposed to end.
Not with hurried exits and unfinished conversations. Not with Maddy's last text burning in her pocket—Can I see you before you leave? Just once.
Outside, the downpour blurred the world into watery streaks.
She grabbed her hoodie and ran.
THE TREE
He was already there.
Drenched. Shivering. Waiting.
Maddy leaned against the old gulmohar tree, its branches bowed under the weight of the rain. His hair clung to his forehead, his lips tinged blue from the cold. But his eyes—God, his eyes—were the same warm brown she remembered, even as they traced her face like he was memorizing her.
"You're really leaving," he said, voice rough.
The words weren't an accusation. Just a quiet surrender to the truth neither of them wanted to face.
Diya nodded, arms wrapped tight around herself. "Flight's in four hours."
A droplet slid down his cheek. She couldn't tell if it was rain.
"You'll manage," he murmured, attempting a smile. "You always do."
There was so much more in that sentence.
I'll miss you.
Don't go.
Stay.
But the words never made it past his lips.
THE CALL
Her phone rang, sharp and insistent.
Harsh.
"Diya, where are you?" His voice was tense. "You've got two hours. Your suitcase isn't even zipped."
She hesitated, torn between the boy in front of her and the responsibility waiting behind.
"I'll talk to you later," she told Maddy, already stepping back.
She didn't wait for his reply.
Didn't see the way his face crumpled as she turned away.
Didn't realize, until it was too late, that she'd just walked out of his life as easily as she'd once walked into it.
THE BREAK
Maddy didn't move.
The rain soaked through his hoodie, icy fingers tracing his spine, but he barely felt it.
She left.
After everything—after the fights, the silences, the I'm not readys—he'd thought, maybe, just maybe, she'd stay for one more minute. One more heartbeat. One more chance to say what he'd been too afraid to voice.
But she hadn't.
And that—that—was what finally broke him.
His knees hit the pavement, hands pressed to his face, shoulders shaking with silent sobs.
The rain didn't care.
Neither did the world.
THE RETURN
Diya didn't know why she turned back.
Maybe it was the way her chest had seized the second she stepped away. Maybe it was the ghost of his touch still lingering on her skin. Maybe it was the unshakable feeling that if she walked away now, she'd regret it forever.
She dropped her bag.
Ran.
"Maddy—!"
But when she reached the tree, he was gone.
The path was empty.
The rain had washed away any trace of him—except for the ache in her chest, sharp and unrelenting.
She stood there, breathless, staring at the space where he'd been, the truth settling over her like the storm overhead:
They were always just out of sync.
Always a step apart.
Always missing each other by seconds, by glances, by choices made too late.
And maybe—maybe—that was all they'd ever be.