Feel Happy .
Good morning Friends and my readers .
“The Power of Rain“
“Silver threads weave through the sky,
A lullaby soft, a tempest high,
A whispering kiss, or a storm’s loud cry.”
Posting Date: February 18, 2025
@rajatchandrasarmah5
Good morning friends and my readers.
Part -II
The Storm That Drenched Them Both
( C ) All right reserved by the author
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Rudra didn’t remember running to the door. He didn’t remember unlocking it. He only remembered the sight that stole the breath from his lungs.
Meera.
Standing in the rain, soaked to the bone, her saree clinging to her body. Her eyes—God, her eyes—held every heartbreak, every lost moment, every unsaid word between them.
For a second, neither of them moved.
Then, before he could stop himself, he stepped forward and pulled her into his arms.
Meera shattered. A sob escaped her lips, muffled against his chest. Her fingers clenched the fabric of his shirt, as if afraid he would vanish.
“I—I shouldn’t have come,” she choked.
His grip tightened. “Then why did you?”
Her body trembled against him. “Because I had to see if you still felt it too.”
He pulled back slightly, cupping her face, raindrops trailing down her skin like forgotten poetry. “And what if I do?” His voice was raw, aching.
She let out a broken laugh. “Then tell me I’m not too late.”
He exhaled sharply. “Meera—”
“I left him.” The words fell from her lips before he could speak. “My husband. My home. My past.”
A sharp silence. The rain filled the spaces between them.
“Why?” he asked, his voice barely above a whisper.
She looked at him, eyes brimming with a truth so painful, it could cut through stone. “Because no matter where I went, I carried you with me. And it was heavier than anything else.”
The ache in his chest deepened. He wanted to hate her. He wanted to push her away. But instead, he did the only thing that made sense.
He kissed her.
It wasn’t soft. It wasn’t careful. It was desperate, feverish, filled with five years of unsaid words and unfinished love. Meera gasped against his lips, her fingers tangled in his wet hair, pulling him closer, as if she could fold time and erase their lost years.
When they broke apart, she was crying. So was he.
“Tell me this is real,” she whispered.
Rudra cupped her face, his thumb brushing her cheek. “It’s real.”
She closed her eyes. “Then don’t let me go this time.”
He kissed her forehead, his lips lingering. “I won’t.”
And this time—he meant it.
RAJAT CHANDRA SARMAH
GUWAHATI , ASSAM , INDIA
15/02/2025
Travel story
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