The rain had started again.

I was standing on the balcony, holding the cold iron grill, watching each drop race down and disappear. It was the kind of evening that made you think too much. The sky was grey, the air smelled like wet earth, and the city below was quiet except for the sound of water hitting rooftops.

People say they love the rain.

I used to too.

But now, rain just reminds me of him.

I don’t know why I’m thinking about him today. Maybe because it’s been exactly one year since I last saw him. Or maybe because the word “Ente Priyam” has been stuck in my head for days.

In Malayalam, it means “My Beloved.”

I learned that from him.

He was from Kerala. I wasn’t.

We were supposed to be strangers.

Two different states, two different languages, two different worlds.

And yet, somehow, the universe decided to put us in the same room for thirty minutes during a college fest three years ago. Thirty minutes. That’s all it took.

He had this calm voice. The kind that made chaos feel small.

He told me stories about backwaters, about Onam, about how his grandmother made payasam in a brass pot.

I told him about my city, about noise, about traffic.

We laughed.

And when we had to leave, he looked at me and said, “Ninte priyam nee kandu pidikkum.”

“You will find your beloved.”

I didn’t know then that he meant himself.

The rain got heavier. A drop slipped through the grill and landed on my hand. Cold.

Just like the last message I got from him.

“Take care.”

Two words. Nothing more.

Sometimes I wonder if he remembers.

If he also stands by a window when it rains.

If he also says my name in his head and then stops, because saying it out loud hurts too much.

“Ente Priyam,” I whispered to no one.

The words felt heavy and light at the same time.

The phone in my pocket buzzed.

I didn’t look.

Because what if it wasn’t him?

And what if it was?

The rain kept falling.

And I kept standing there, holding the grill, holding onto a name that was never mine to keep.

The phone buzzed again.

I stared at the screen through the blur of rain on the glass door.

Unknown Number.

+91 974...

Kerala code.

My heart did something stupid. It jumped.

Three years. Three years of silence.

And now this?

I should have ignored it.

I should have put the phone down and gone inside.

But my fingers were already moving.

My thumb slid across the screen before my brain could stop it.

"Hello?" My voice came out smaller than I wanted.

Silence.

For two seconds, there was only the sound of rain.

"Can I come up?"

The question was still hanging in the air when I dropped the phone.

Not literally. But it felt like I did.

He was standing there.

Across the street.

Drenched.

Holding a black umbrella that was doing nothing to keep him dry.

Three years.

And he looked the same.

Same messy hair. Same tired eyes. Same way of standing like the world was too heavy.

I didn't answer him.

I couldn't.

My legs moved on their own. Down the stairs. Two at a time.

The door. The gate.

And then I was standing in front of him.

The rain was falling between us.

For a second, neither of us spoke.

What do you say after three years of silence?

"You came," I whispered.

"I did." His voice was rough. Like he hadn't used it in a while.

Water was dripping from the edge of his umbrella onto his shoes.

"I know I shouldn't have. I know I don't have the right. But I saw that line... 'Ente Priyam'... and I couldn't breathe."

"Why now?" The words came out sharper than I meant.

"Why did you disappear? Why did you leave me with just 'take care'?"

He flinched.

"I was scared."

He laughed, but it wasn't a laugh.

"I was scared of what I felt. Scared of dragging you into my mess. My family, my problems... I thought leaving was the kind thing to do."

"The kind thing?" My voice broke.

"Do you know what the last three years were like for me?"

"I do." He stepped closer. The umbrella tilted, and now the rain was falling on both of us.

"I know because mine were the same. Empty."

I wanted to be angry.

I wanted to slam the gate and walk away.

But his eyes... God, his eyes were the same.

Lost. And searching for me.

"Why 'Ente Priyam'?" he asked softly.

"Why did you write that?"

"Because that's what you are," I said before I could stop myself.

"Even when you're not mine. Even when you left. You were still... mine."

He closed his eyes for a second. When he opened them, they were wet.

And I couldn't tell if it was rain or something else.

"Can we talk?" he asked.

"Just talk. Inside. Please. Five minutes. And if you want me to leave after that, I will."

The rain kept falling.

My heart kept breaking and healing at the same time.

I stepped aside.

Opened the gate.

"Five minutes," I said.

He nodded.

And followed me inside.

The door closed behind us with a soft click.

Mazhayude sound [sound of rain] got muffled.

The flat was small. Warm.

It smelled like old books and coffee.

He stood near the door, nananju [drenched].

I tossed him a towel.

"Five minutes," I said. "Timer set cheyyunnu [I’m setting a timer]."

My voice was calm. Not angry.

Vihaan took the towel and smiled a little.

"Ninte curtains ippozhum same aanallo [You still have the same curtains],"

he said, looking at the blue ones.

I shrugged. "Athe. They’re comfortable."

He sat on the couch. Not like a stranger.

Like he used to belong here.

Silence. But not heavy.

Just... familiar.

"So," I said. "Paray. Five minutes undu [You have five minutes]."

Vihaan ran a hand through his wet hair and looked at me.

"I came because of your post," he said.

"'Some loves are like Ente Priyam [My beloved]. You don’t notice them until they’re gone.'"

My heart skipped.

"That was just writing, Vihaan."

"No," he said softly. "It was you, Tarini."

I looked away. "Why are you saying this now?"

"Because I’m getting married," he said.

"Arranged aanu [It’s arranged].

But Achan said, 'If ninte manassu [your heart] is somewhere else,

tell me before it’s too late.'"

I turned to him. "And?"

"And my heart..." he paused. "It never left this room.

It never left you, Tarini."

The timer rang.

Five minutes over.

But neither of us moved.

"Vihaan," I whispered.

"Don’t say things you can’t mean."

He took one step closer.

"I mean every word.

Nee ente priyam aanu [You are my beloved]."

Just then, the doorbell rang.

I opened the door.

A girl stood there.

Umbrella in one hand, box of sweets in the other.

She was smiling. Not crying. Not angry.

"Hi," she said. "Njan Aadhya aanu [I’m Aadhya].

Vihaan-ettante [Vihaan-etta’s] fiancée."

Vihaan came and stood behind me.

Aadhya looked at both of us and laughed softly.

"Relax. Drama undakilla [I won’t create drama]."

She stepped inside. "Achan sent me."

"Uncle?" I asked.

"Athe [Yes]," she said. "He said before the wedding,

I should meet the girl who taught Vihaan-etta how to love."

I blinked. "What?"

Aadhya kept the sweets on the table.

"See, Vihaan-etta and I are cheriya kaalathu [since childhood] friends.

There’s no love between us.

Achan just wanted him to be happy.

But he told Achan, 'I’m already happy. With her.'"

She pointed at me.

Vihaan looked down. Then at me.

"Sathyam aanu [It’s true]," he said quietly.

"I told them about you. About Ente Priyam."

Aadhya grinned at me. "So chedi [sister],

coffee kudikkan varatteyo [can I come for coffee]?

Because I think I’ll be coming here a lot."

For the first time in three years,

the air didn’t feel heavy.

It felt light. Like a new beginning.

I looked at Vihaan.

He was looking at me like I was home.

"Five minutes are over," I said.

"But maybe... we can take more time?"

Vihaan smiled. The first real one in years.

"Enikku pinne ethra time venam [I need as much time as you want], Tarini."

The timer had rung long ago.

But none of us moved.

Aadhya was sitting on the couch, eating sweets like she owned the place.

"So," she said, mouth full. "Confession kab hoga [when will the confession happen]?"

I choked on my chay. "Aadhya!"

"What?" she grinned. "Njan oru cheriya help aanu cheyyunnathu [I’m just doing a small help].

Vihaan-etta 3 varsham [3 years] se silent aanu [he’s been silent]."

Vihaan looked at the floor. His ears were red.

"Stop it, Aadhya."

"Why?" she said. "Tarini chedi deserves to hear it, no?"

She looked at me. "Okay I’ll go to the kitchen.

But don’t take too long. Sweets thirichu varum [the sweets will be over]."

She got up and left. But stood right outside the kitchen door.

I could hear her. Obviously.

Silence again. Just me and Vihaan.

"Tarini," he said quietly.

I didn’t look up.

"Nokk [Look at me]," he whispered.

I looked. His eyes were the same.

That warm, sun wali look ☀️ that used to make me feel safe.

"That day I left," he said. "I told myself it was for the best.

Family, responsibility, all that.

But every day without you felt like night without moon."

My throat tightened. "Vihaan..."

"Shhh," he said. "Let me finish.

Nee ente Nila aanu [You are my moon], Tarini.

And I’m tired of being a Sun without you.

I’m cold without you."

From the kitchen, Aadhya coughed loudly.

"Clear aanu [It’s clear]! Now propose pannu [propose now]!"

Both of us turned red.

I laughed a little. "Aadhya is listening."

"I know," Vihaan smiled. Embarrassed but brave.

"So let her listen. Tarini,

will you give me more than five minutes?

Will you give me a chance again?

Enikku ninne venam [I want you]."

My heart was beating so loud.

Aadhya was probably counting from the kitchen.

I took a deep breath.

"Vihaan," I said. "If this is real...

then let’s not waste more time."

He exhaled like he’d been holding his breath for 3 years.

And then, right there,

he held my hand.

From the kitchen: "Yesss! Sweets celebrate cheyyam [Let’s celebrate with sweets]!"

We both laughed. Awkward, nervous, but real.

For the first time,

the sun and moon were in the same sky.

In morning,7 AM.

The sun was coming in through the window. Soft and warm.

I was in the kitchen, making tea.

Footsteps behind me.

"Good morning, Tarini"

I turned. Vihaan.

Hair all messy, wearing that old college t-shirt.

"Ninte tea ready aano [Is your tea ready]?" he asked, smiling.

"Almost," I said. "You don’t even drink tea."

"I will today," he said. "With you."

We were standing close. Making tea together.

It felt normal. Like we never had 3 years in between.

"CLICK!"

Both of us jumped.

Aadhya was on the couch, phone in her hand, hair a mess.

"Sorry sorry! Njan disturb cheyyunnilla [I’m not disturbing],"

she said quickly. "Just capturing the moment."

Vihaan rubbed his neck. "Aadhya..."

"What? 3 years kazhinju [after 3 years] akka is smiling.

I have to take photos, no?" She grinned.

We took our tea to the balcony. All three of us.

The air was fresh. Birds were making noise.

Aadhya sat on a chair and kept clicking.

"Idhu frame cheyyam [We’ll frame this]," she said.

"Nokk, the light is perfect on you two."

Vihaan looked at me over his mug. "Tea tastes better in the morning."

"Especially with you."

I rolled my eyes but I was smiling. "Stop flirting."

"Ennal entha cheyyendathu [Then what should I do]?" he asked, teasing.

Aadhya butted in, "Drink your tea and be cute. That’s enough."

After a while Vihaan came and sat on the floor, right in front of me.

The morning sun was on his face.

"Nee engane feel cheyyunnu [How are you feeling]?" he asked quietly.

"Good," I said. "Really good."

"Me too," he said. "Because you’re here."

Aadhya clicked one last photo.

In the photo: me on the swing, Vihaan sitting on the floor in front of me.

Morning light everywhere.

"Keep this safe," Aadhya said softly. "Ithu important aanu [This is important]."

Vihaan reached out and took my hand.

Right there. In front of Aadhya. In the morning light.

And I didn’t pull away.

I just held on.

Aadhya saw it, smiled, and put her phone down.

"Njan kitchenil pokunnu [I’m going to the kitchen].

You two enjoy. No more photos... for now."

After Aadhya went to the kitchen,

the balcony got quiet.

Vihaan was still holding my hand.

The morning sun was warm on our skin.

"Nee ippol evide pokunnu [Where are you going now]?" he asked softly.

"Nowhere," I said. "Just here."

He smiled. "Good. Because I missed this."

10 minutes later Aadhya came back with tea.

"Okay lovebirds," she said. "Today we are going out. My plan."

"Engottu [Where to]?" I asked.

"Everywhere," Aadhya said and tossed me the car keys.

"Munnar, Alleppey, Kochi. Kerala full."

"Nee drive cheyyu [You drive], akka.

Njan backseat-il irikkam [I’ll sit in back] and click photos.

You two sit in front and... remember."

I looked at Vihaan. "Pokamo [Shall we go]?"

He nodded. "Pokam."

**30 minutes later - On the road to Munnar**

Me driving. Vihaan beside me.

Aadhya in the back with 2 cameras.

Windows down. Mountains starting to show.

Cool air and the smell of rain.

Aadhya: "CLICK! Tea gardens!"

"CLICK! Look at the fog!"

Vihaan turned to me. "You remember this road?"

I nodded. "Yeah. We said we’d come here together."

"3 years ago."

Then

He closed his eyes and smiled.

Like he was remembering something beautiful.

And then the flashback came.

---

### **Vihaan’s Flashback - 3 Years Ago**

---

Same road. Same tea gardens.

Just me and Tarini. On my bike.

We stopped on the side.

Walked between the tea plants.

I looked at her and teased,

"Tarini, ninakku oru paattu paadanam [You should sing a song]."

She laughed. "Entha arthaam [What do you mean]?

Njan gana gayun [I should sing]?"

"Yes!" I said. "You have a nice voice."

"Njan paadillaa [I won’t]," she said, blushing.

"Ayyo please," I begged. "Oru line mathram [Just one line]."

"Nee entha oru teasing aanu [You’re such a tease],"

she hit my arm.

"Then prove it. Sing."

She sighed and sang softly.

**"Unnakul naane,

Unnodu naane,

Unnodu vendi njan jeevikkunne,

Unne kaanaathe njan irikkilla,

Unne thottu njan jeevikkunne..."**

I didn’t tease after that.

I just watched her.

Because that day I knew.

I was in love.

---

### **Back to Present - Car**

---

Vihaan was still sitting with his eyes closed.

Smiling.

I looked at him.

And without thinking, I reached over.

And held his hand.

Vihaan opened his eyes slowly.

Our hands were together on the gear.

"Ninakku ormakkundo [Do you remember]?" he whispered.

I nodded. "Haan."

"Then tell me," he said.

"What does it mean?"

I took a breath.

Then

I said **"You are in me,

I am with you,

I live only for you,

I cannot live without seeing you,

I live only by touching you..."**

We were looking at each other.

"Njan ninne snahikkunnu [I love you]."He said

My heart was beating so fast.

"Enikkum [Me too]," I whispered back.

We both forgot Aadhya was there.

Then from the backseat...

Aadhya: *cough* *cough*

Both of us JERKED.

We pulled our hands apart so fast.

I looked at the road. Vihaan looked out the window.

Both our faces RED.

Aadhya: "Sorry sorry, disturb cheytha [Sorry, disturbed]?"

She was smiling so wide. "Njan oru CLICK edukkayaayirunnu [I was just taking a CLICK]."

Me: "Aadhya! Nee... nee ellam kettuo [You... you heard everything]?"

Vihaan: *clears throat* "Ayyo, ippo rain vannu [Oh, it's raining now]."

He was looking everywhere BUT at me.

Aadhya: "Haan haan, njan onnum kettilla [Yes yes, I heard nothing]."

"Just that 'I love you' and 'Me too' part." *winks*

Me: "Aadhyaaa!" *embarrassed*

Vihaan: *burying his face in his hands* "Daivame [Oh God]."

Aadhya was laughing. "Relax cheyyu [Relax].

Njan happy aanu [I’m happy].

Finally 3 years kazhinju [After 3 years]."

Silence for 10 seconds.

Then Vihaan looked at me.

I looked at him.

Both of us: *simultaneously* "Aadhya..."

Aadhya: "What? Njan window-il nokuva [I’ll look at the window]."

*turns around* "Continue cheyyu [Continue]."

Me and Vihaan: *dying of embarrassment*