The first drops of rain tapped gently on the window pane, but inside Taniya’s flat, the air was already electric.
Bapan stood by the balcony door, half-lit by the flicker of a passing storm. His shirt was soaked from the sudden downpour he’d walked through, clinging to him like second skin. Taniya’s eyes lingered longer than they should have.
“You always manage to show up when it rains,” she teased, arms crossed, pretending not to notice how her pulse quickened at the sight of him.
“And you always let me in,” Bapan replied, a crooked smile forming at the corner of his lips. “Maybe the rain has its reasons.”
Taniya turned, hiding her smirk as she walked toward the kitchen. “Maybe I just feel sorry for wet cats stranded in my hallway.”
He followed her slowly, his footsteps quiet but deliberate. The tension hung between them like mist after lightning—thick, humming, alive.
“Still stubborn, aren’t you?” he murmured, his voice low, coaxing.
She poured two cups of tea, the steam curling like breath against the dim kitchen light. “And you’re still arrogant,” she said without looking back.
But when she handed him the cup, their fingers brushed.
Too long. Too deliberate.
He didn’t pull away.
Neither did she.
“You never really answered my message last week,” Bapan said as he took a sip, eyes fixed on her. “I asked if you missed me.”
Taniya leaned back against the counter, her gaze challenging. “And if I did?”
Bapan took a slow step toward her. “Then I’d say I haven’t stopped thinking about you.”
A pause.
A heartbeat.
She looked away, biting her lip. “You always say the right things when it rains.”
“Only because you look the way you do when you’re pretending not to care.”
He was closer now. So close that Taniya could feel the warmth rising off his skin, could hear the slight catch in his breath. Her breath hitched as he tucked a strand of hair behind her ear—gently, like a secret being kept.
“Tell me to leave, Taniya,” he whispered. “I will. If that’s what you want.”
She stared at him, her eyes dark with something unspoken. “You’re good at leaving,” she said. “But terrible at staying.”
“I’ve learned,” he said, voice rough with something deeper. “I’m still learning.”
His hand lingered at her waist. Not possessive. Just a question.
She answered without words.
Taniya moved first—barely—but enough. Her lips grazed the edge of his jaw, featherlight, deliberate. He exhaled sharply, setting down the tea without looking.
The space between them dissolved.
No more teasing. No more pretense.
His mouth found hers in a kiss that wasn’t soft, wasn’t polite. It was years of unspoken words, nights lost in memory, and months of aching solitude pressed into a single moment.
And yet, it wasn’t rushed.
There was rhythm.
There was fire.
His fingers traced the outline of her back, slow and searching, like he was relearning the map he once knew. Her hands curled around the fabric of his soaked shirt, tugging him closer, pulling him into the gravity that had always existed between them.
The thunder cracked outside.
Inside, their storm was quieter—breathless gasps, the rustle of movement, the hum of lips brushing skin.
But it wasn’t just about touch.
It was about the way she looked at him when his forehead rested against hers.
It was the way his voice trembled when he whispered her name between stolen kisses.
“Taniya…”
“Shh,” she said, silencing him with her mouth, smiling as she did. “Don’t ruin it with words.”
Later, they lay tangled on the couch, fully clothed but completely undone. His head rested on her stomach as her fingers played lazily with his hair. Rain drummed steadily against the glass, a quiet applause for what had just transpired.
“This doesn’t mean anything,” she said, too softly.
“I know,” he replied.
But neither moved.
Neither wanted to.
Bapan closed his eyes, inhaling the scent of her skin, memorizing the feel of her breath against his neck. For now, the storm outside mirrored the one between them. And in the quiet after, they found something that didn’t need defining.