It was a quiet, rainy night in the hills. The clouds lingered low, and there was the smell of damp earth hanging in the air. Ananya, a freelance photographer, was enjoying a cup of coffee by the window when she heard
someone knock. It was Riya—her college mate, and a person who unknowingly had taken a part of her heart years ago.
.jpg)
They had not met for years, but that spark was still there. Riya smiled, soaked in rain, her eyes shining with the glow of memories. Ananya handed her a towel and laughed softly. "You never carry an umbrella, do you?"
Riya laughed. "Only when I have someone to dry me off."
The space was filled with nostalgia as they lounged on the couch, tucked under a blanket, discussing life, art, and all things in between. Time dissolved around them. Each look spoke volumes, each smile an unspoken confession.
.jpg)
The fire crackled softly, and Ananya paused before sweeping a lock of hair from Riya's face. Their fingers touched. It was gentle, tentative, but true. Neither hurried. It was more than friendship—it was trust, comfort, and home.
"I missed this," Riya breathed.
"Me too," Ananya said, her gaze holding hers.
No labels. No fear. Just two hearts making their way back—slowly, truthfully.
.jpg)
.jpg)
No comments:
Post a Comment