(Irshad's POV)
It had been two days since I last saw her, and I hated that I was keeping count.
Two damn days, and still, I caught myself looking around campus, wondering if I'd spot the quiet girl with sharp eyes and a mouth that surprised me. I wasn't used to this—this awareness of someone, like they'd left something behind in my head, something that wouldn't go away no matter how much I tried to shake it off.
The sky had been threatening rain all evening, the kind that came in slow, deliberate waves before finally breaking. I could already feel the shift in the air as I sat on my bike. I hated rain. Or, at least, I always thought I did.
But then, I remembered the way she had left that night—the way the rain had caught in the strands of her hair, the way she had disappeared into the night without hesitation, as if she belonged to it. And now, I wasn't so sure anymore.
A gust of wind swept through, cool and damp, and the first few drops hit my skin. The street was still moving—students walking in different directions, some already ducking into buildings, others pulling out umbrellas. I sighed, starting my bike. I needed to get home before the rain got worse.
The rain had started falling harder by the time I pulled onto the main road.
Great. Just what I needed.
I cursed under my breath, flicking up my visor to get a better look ahead. The roads were already slick, and riding in this was a guaranteed way to get drenched for no reason. Just as I slowed near a turn, that was when I saw her.
She was standing under a tree near the sidewalk, her arms wrapped around the books pressed to her chest, staring up at the sky like she was deciding whether to run for it or wait it out. The rain had picked up—light but steady, and with the way she was holding those books, I already knew what she'd choose.
Before I could think better of it, I pulled up beside her.
She noticed the bike first, then me, blinking in surprise.
"Irshad?"
"Seerat," I smirked. "You just gonna stand there and wait to drown?"
"I just need to wait it out," she said, shifting slightly but not moving toward me.
I huffed a laugh. "Yeah? And how long do you think that'll take?" I tilted my head toward my bike. "Come on, I'll drop you."
A drop of water slid down her cheek, disappearing beneath her collar.
Her lips parted slightly, like the thought hadn't occurred to her. "I—"
Before she could respond, the sky made the decision for her. The rain turned into a sudden downpour, thick and unrelenting. She let out a sharp breath, pressing herself further under the tree, but it was useless. She was already getting wet.
"Seerat, come on," I called over the rain. "Unless you want to ruin your books."
She hesitated, her fingers tightening slightly around them.
She wasn't the type to say yes so easily. But the rain didn't care for hesitation.
I stayed quiet, letting her make the decision. The rain pounded harder, running off the edges of her sleeves, dampening the pages of the book at the top of the stack. She exhaled sharply.
Then, she stepped forward.
I kept my gaze ahead as she reached for my shoulder, fingers barely touching before she swung her leg over.
I had given plenty of girls rides before—laughing, chatty, sometimes flirtatious. But this was different.
She barely touched me, but I felt it. Felt the warmth of her hands through my jacket, felt the space she left between us, careful but present. It was a kind of awareness I wasn't used to.
I swallowed, gripping the handlebars tighter.
"Hold on," I muttered.
She hesitated before lightly gripping the sides of my jacket. Not firm, not loose—just enough.
Damn.
The bike rumbled beneath us as I pulled onto the road. The downpour thickened within seconds, rain striking the pavement hard, making the streetlights glisten against the slick asphalt.
I was used to riding in bad weather, but I could feel her behind me—small, unsure. The first sharp turn we took, her fingers clenched slightly against my jacket. Not enough to be noticeable to anyone else, but I felt it.
Her breath hitched when we hit a deeper puddle, the sudden shift in momentum making her tighten her grip just for a second before she forced herself to relax again.
She was trying not to hold on too tightly.
Trying not to hold on to me.
I pressed my lips together, keeping my eyes on the road. I should've said something—told her it was fine, told her to hold on properly. But instead, I just kept riding, feeling every small shift, every slight movement she made behind me.
A few minutes in, the rain thickened even more, turning nearly impossible to navigate. I cursed under my breath before pulling up near a bus stop, the only decent cover in sight.
Seerat stepped off first, arms wrapped around herself. Her clothes were damp, strands of hair clinging to her forehead. I parked the bike and joined her, shaking the rain from my hair.
The shelter was small, barely enough to keep us both dry, but it would do.
Seerat shivered slightly, rubbing her arms. She wasn't looking at me—her gaze was fixed on the rain as if it were something familiar, something she understood better than most.
"You're freezing," I muttered, already shrugging out of my jacket before I could think better of it.
She blinked when I draped it over her shoulders.
"I—"
"Just take it," I cut in, adjusting the collar slightly. "You're already soaked."
She didn't argue. Just pulled it closer, like it was instinct.
The rain blurred the world around us, but in that moment, all I noticed was her standing there, small against the storm, wrapped in something of mine.
For a few moments, neither of us spoke. The rain pounded against the pavement, the rhythm steady, drowning out the city noise.
"You really don't like rain?" she asked eventually, her voice softer now.
I exhaled, glancing at the sky. "Not really."
"Why?"
I thought about it. About the cold, the mess, the memories I didn't feel like digging into. But instead, I just said, "Never saw the appeal, I guess."
She hummed, considering. "I love it."
I looked down at her, amused.
"That obvious?" she asked.
"A little."
She was facing me now, her sharp eyes softer under the dim glow of the streetlights. I noticed then how small she really was beside me. Her head barely reached my chest.
She shivered. Just slightly. Not dramatic, not noticeable unless you were really looking.
Before I could stop myself, I reached out, tugging the jacket more securely around her. My fingers brushed against her shoulder—just for a second—but it was enough.
She didn't pull away.
I cleared my throat. "Rain's slowing down."
She nodded, shifting slightly. "You don't have to wait with me."
I scoffed. "Like I'm gonna leave you stranded here."
She rolled her eyes but didn't argue.
A few more moments passed before the downpour faded into a light drizzle. I tilted my head toward the bike. "Come on. I'll drop you."
This time, she got on without hesitation. And this time, when she rested her hands against my back, I was hyper-aware of it the whole ride back.
By the time we reached her hostel, the rain had stopped completely, leaving only the faint scent of petrichor in the air.
She climbed off, took off my jacket and handed it to me.
Then, she looked up at me. "Thanks…"
I smirked. "Don't get used to it."
She smiled—small, barely there, but real.
"Goodnight, Irshad."
And then she turned and disappeared inside.
I let out a slow breath, running a hand through my damp hair.
Yeah. I was in trouble.
***
The rain had started to pour again by the time I got home. It beat against the window, steady and rhythmic, but it didn't lull me to sleep. If anything, it did the opposite.
I lay on my back, staring at the ceiling, the dim glow of the streetlight outside stretching shadows across the walls. My room was quiet except for Ali's muffled snores from the next room, but my head? My head wouldn't shut up.
Seerat.
Her name echoed in my thoughts, stubborn and unshaken. The way she had looked up at me at the bus stop, trying to piece me together. The way she looked at the rain, unbothered, like she belonged to it. The way she made me want to lean in—closer than I should.
I exhaled sharply, dragging a hand down my face.
This wasn't good.
I knew better than to get attached. I had spent years keeping people at arm's length, never letting anyone get close enough to mean something. Because meaning something led to needing something. And needing something meant giving someone the power to hurt you.
I turned onto my side, closing my eyes, trying to will myself into sleep.
But sleep wasn't kind tonight.
—
Sleep pulled me under, slow and suffocating. Then, the house appeared—the one I left behind in Delhi. The air inside was heavy, thick with something I couldn't name as a kid but understood too well now.
I was small in the dream. Maybe eight, maybe nine. Standing in the doorway of the living room, my hands curled into fists.
And then I heard it.
The voice I hated most.
My father.
I couldn't see his face, but I could hear him. The sharp edge in his words, the slurred anger dripping from every syllable. The way my mother stood, her frame stiff, shoulders drawn inward like she was trying to make herself smaller.
I knew what was coming before it happened.
I had seen it too many times.
The hand that rose. The crack of skin against skin. The stumble back. The muffled sound of pain she tried to swallow.
I felt it all before it even reached me.
And then, suddenly—
It wasn't my mother.
It was Seerat.
Her face, pale under the dim light. Her wide, dark eyes filled with something I couldn't name, something that made my stomach twist painfully. A bruise blooming on her cheek where my father's hand had been.
And then my father wasn't there anymore.
It was me.
Standing over her.
Her lips parted, breath shaky. She wasn't crying, but she was looking at me like she didn't recognize me. Like she never expected me to be the one to hurt her.
I wanted to move. To speak. To do something.
But I couldn't.
I could only watch as she took a step back, disappearing into the shadows, her voice a whisper that sliced straight through me—
"I thought you were different."
—
I woke up gasping.
My chest was tight, a cold sweat clinging to my skin. My fingers dug into the sheets as I tried to ground myself, my pulse slamming against my ribs.
It was just a dream. Just a dream.
But my hands still shook.
I sat up, exhaling sharply, pressing the heels of my palms against my eyes.
It wasn't real.
I would never—
I would never.
But the fear settled deep.
It wasn't just a dream. It was the possibility.
I had spent my whole life making sure I would never be like him. That I would never let anger swallow me whole, never let love turn into something cruel.
But what if it wasn't enough?
What if Seerat got too close?
What if one day she looked at me and saw the same thing my mother had seen in my father?
A memory surfaced—her standing on the rooftop that first night, rain soaking through her clothes, her shoulders shaking. I hadn't known her then. But I had seen her. Crying. Alone. Just like my mother had been.
I hadn't done anything then.
I couldn't do anything now.
I couldn't let this happen.
I wouldn't let this happen.
I had to stay away.
Before it was too late.
I exhaled, forcing my body back against the mattress, my pulse still uneven. My fingers twitched, muscle memory reaching for my phone before I even registered why.
The screen glowed in the darkness, notifications lighting up the unread messages. Group chats. Random texts. People who didn't matter.
Not the name I wanted to see.
I didn't have her number.
I shouldn't want it.
I shouldn't want to check if she was okay.
Jaw tight, I turned the screen off and tossed the phone aside.
I had to sleep.
Before I did something I couldn't take back.