The rain poured like the sky was grieving too.

Like the sky had had enough. Like the heavens had overheard their silence for too long and decided to scream for them.Cold sheets of water came crashing down, drenching the earth in silence and memory.

Two silhouettes.

Two histories.

Two people who used to be one.

Car horns sounded distantly, muffled beneath the steady roar of the monsoon.But here, in the middle of the road, two people stood — soaked to the bone, staring at each other like they'd never met, and yet like they knew every scar under the skin.

Kritika's dupatta clung to her arms, soaked, heavy. Her kohl was ruined, trailing down her cheeks in silent streaks. Her voice wavered, but it held the kind of strength only heartbreak gives you.

"Why would you disappear like that?" she asked.  Not screamed. Not whispered. Just... asked. Like maybe, just maybe, he'd finally answer.

Akaay didn't move at first. Rain dripped from his jaw, dark strands of his hair plastered against his forehead. His hoodie was soaked through, the color darker, like he'd bled into it. His fists were clenched in his pockets — the only sign he wasn't as calm as he looked.

"Jab trust hi na rahe..." He finally spoke, voice hoarse, edged with exhaustion.  "...toh insaan rehkar kya karta?" He looked at her then. Really looked. Not like a stranger. Not like a lover. But like someone who still carried her laugh between the lines of his silence.

(When there's no trust left... then what's a man supposed to do?)

"Kisko samjhata?" he asked, stepping forward. The air crackled between them.  "Unko? Jo sun  na hi nahi chahte the? Ya usko... jiske saamne sab kuch rakh diya tha... dil, sach, har ek kamzori... Aur uske baad bhi... mujhe woh ek cheez nahi mili—trust." His voice broke, barely noticeable. But she caught it. Of course, she did.

(Whom was I supposed to explain it to?

Them? The ones who never wanted to listen?

Or to her... the one I placed everything in front of — my heart, my truth, every weakness...

And still... I didn't get that one thing — trust.")

"You lied," Kritika said, chest rising and falling beneath the rain. "Jhooth toh tumne hi bola tha, Akaay." She took a step forward, each word laced with something between fury and desperation. "Par ek baar keh dete. Ek baar. Kritika ruk jao... I'll explain.  Bas ek baar bolna tha. Rokna tha mujhe. But you didn't. You just disappeared.  You left me there — with questions and silence. Aapne roka kyu nahi"

(You were the one who lied, Akaay.

But you could've just said it once. Just once. 'Kritika, stop... I'll explain.' You only had to say it once. You should've stopped me.

But you didn't. You just disappeared. You left me there — with questions and silence.

Why didn't you stop me?)

The rain started pouring harder, if that was even possible. The kind that makes your skin sting. But neither of them moved.

Akaay let out a low, humorless laugh. "Jab roka tha tab toh bada ruk gyi thi na aap," he replied.  "I never even tried, right? That's the narrative now?" His tone was bitter — not cruel, but the kind that comes from swallowing too much pain for too long. "Main toh hamesha gaya na.  Sabko samjhaya. Sabse maafi maangi. Apne aap ko samjhake chala gaya."

(When I tried to stop you before, didn't you stop for real that time?

I was the one who always walked away, right? I explained to everyone. Apologized to everyone. Convinced myself... and then left.)

He took a sharp breath. Like there was something he'd been choking on for years "Try kiya tha. Sach mein.  Par aapne paas aane hi nahi diya. Aur maine bhi... chup ho ke bhi dekha, chup kara ke bhi dekha,  ruk ke bhi dekha." He paused. Looked away. Then back. "But it never works out, jaan.  It never did. I tried. Every time. Aur ab... ab toh lagta hai mann bhi nahi mila mujhe."

(I really did try.

But you never let me come close. And I... I tried staying quiet, I tried silencing you, I tried staying.

And now... now I don't even think I got your heart.)

Kritika's chest ached. The rain couldn't cool the fire in her lungs. "Mann le liya.  Par dil nahi jeet paaye," she said, her voice breaking like glass.  "Sabko pata hai, Akaay. Tumhare alawa sabko.  Sabko pata hai ki sirf ek baar tum keh do — let's give it one more try — and I'll fall. I'll run to you, I'll crawl to you. Because that's all I ever wanted."

(You got my mind... but never won my heart.

Everyone knows, Akaay. Everyone except you.)

Her eyes searched his face for softness. For the boy she once loved. For the man who still looked at her like she was a poem he'd memorized and then buried. "But you never did. You watched me move on. You watched me lie to myself. Watched me write poems. Har chiz sambhal ke rakhi — jisme sirf tum the."

(Everything I ever kept — it all had you in it.)

Akaay let out a long breath. Almost like a sigh. A goodbye in disguise. "Duniya mein sabse baat karni thi na tumko, mere alawa?" he asked quietly.  "And when I got lost, tumne nahi dhoonda — kisi aur ne kiya. Pehle bhi koi aur tha.  Aaj bhi koi aur zyada tha."

(You wanted to talk to everyone in the world... except me?

You didn't search for me — someone else did.

There was someone else before. And even today... someone else mattered more.)

His eyes glistened, but it wasn't the rain. Not all of it. "Bolne mein bohot easy hota hai, jaan.  Karna nahi. Dikhana easy hota hai... samjhaana nahi.  Main bhi thak gaya hoon." And then softer — almost to himself "I didn't just try once or twice. I tried every time we fell apart.  But in the end... I fell apart."

(It's easy to say, jaan. Doing is hard. Showing is easy... explaining isn't.

I'm tired too.)

He looked at her one last time, the way people look at the house they once lived in. Full of memories. Full of regret. "This time... I'm not ending it. Tum har baar kehti ho na... 'chhod do isko'.  Lo... chhod diya."

(You always said — 'let it go.' So fine... I've let go.)

Kritika stared at him. The ache between her ribs spread like wildfire. "Chhod kar tum gaye the... jhooth tumne bola tha," she said, quietly.

(You were the one who left... you were the one who lied. )

And then — with one last punch, one last piece of the fire she kept caged behind her softness "Take care of your eyes, Akaay. Because those are the only balls you have in your body."

He blinked. Just once. And then... nothing.

Only the sound of the rain.

Two people.

One love.

Too many chances lost.