The rose of rain

Chapter 1 : the rain start 

During the rainy season, the garden was full of fresh air and the sweet smell of wet soil. A boy named Avi loved to see the green garden and colorful flowers. He always took care of the plants like they were his friends. But one day, he saw that his rose plant had died. Even though he had given it enough water and natural fertilizer, the plant didn’t survive.

So, Avi went to a plant nursery to buy a new rose plant. While he was looking at different rose varieties, he accidentally bumped into a girl. She was also there for plants and flowers. Her name was Riddhi. She was the same age as Avi—16 years old—and new in his city.

Avi quickly said, “Sorry, miss! It’s my fault. I didn’t see you. I was lost while looking for rose plants.”

Riddhi smiled and said, “It’s okay. I do the same when I see plants.”

Avi said, “Hi, I’m Avi Patil. And you?”

She replied, “Hi, I’m Riddhi Kamble. I’m new in town.”

Avi said with a smile, “Welcome to my town. Let’s make your beginning magical.”

A few days later, they were both surprised to find out that they had joed the same school—and even the same class.

Chapter 2: The Same Bench

The next day, the sky was still cloudy. A soft drizzle made everything look fresh. Avi walked into his school with a quiet smile. But he didn’t know something surprising was waiting.

When the bell rang, his class teacher came in with a new student.

“Class, meet Riddhi Kamble. She is new to the city. Please make her feel comfortable,” the teacher said.

Avi's eyes widened. Riddhi! The same girl from the plant nursery. She looked surprised too but smiled when she saw him.

“Riddhi, go and sit next to Avi,” the teacher said.

Now they were classmates. And even shared the same bench.

For a moment, both felt shy. But Avi broke the silence.

“Looks like you took my ‘welcome to the town’ seriously,” he said with a laugh.

Riddhi giggled. “Maybe this town really is magical like you said.”

They spent the day sharing books, laughing at silly jokes, and talking about flowers. Avi was happy. The rain outside felt lighter. Inside, a new friendship had begun.

But neither of them knew—this was more than just friendship. It was the first drop of something deeper… something like a love story growing slowly, like a rose in the rain.

Chapter 3: A Small Change

A few weeks passed. Riddhi and Avi became good friends. They came to school together, shared tiffin during breaks, and laughed at each other’s silly drawings. Riddhi even gave names to Avi’s plants like “Lilly Ma’am” and “Captain Cactus.”

Everyone in class started to notice their bond. Some teased them, some smiled, and some… didn’t like it much.

One day, during science class, a boy named Karan sat beside Riddhi. Avi had gone to get a book from the library. When he returned, he saw Karan showing Riddhi something on his phone—and she was laughing.

Avi didn’t say anything. But inside, he felt… strange.

After class, Riddhi came running. “Hey, you missed a funny meme! Karan showed it—some plant joke.”

Avi forced a smile. “Oh, okay. Cool.”

But Riddhi noticed his silence. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah… just tired,” Avi said, looking away.

That evening, it rained again. Avi sat alone in his garden, watching the water drops slide off the rose petals. The same rose plant he bought the day he met Riddhi.

He looked at it and whispered,

“Why do I feel like I’m losing something… even when nothing’s gone?”

He didn’t understand it fully yet. But something inside was changing.

Maybe this wasn’t just friendship anymore.

Chapter 4: The Missing Note

The next day, school felt different. Riddhi didn’t sit next to Avi during the morning period. She quietly took a seat with another girl. Avi noticed—but didn’t ask.

During lunch break, he opened his tiffin but didn’t feel like eating. Riddhi walked past him once, then again. She looked at him but said nothing. Something was wrong, and both could feel it.

Avi checked his notebook and found a small folded paper stuck between the pages. It wasn’t there before.

He opened it slowly.

“You didn’t talk to me yesterday. Did I do something wrong? – Riddhi”

His heart sank. He thought she was upset, but she was feeling the same.

He stood up and walked to the school garden. There she was, sitting alone on the stone bench under the old mango tree, watching the rain fall again.

He walked slowly toward her.

“I found your note,” he said softly.

She looked up. “You ignored me first.”

“I thought you were busy with Karan,” he admitted, looking at the ground.

She smiled a little. “I was just laughing at a joke. But I was missing… this.” She pointed at the space between them.

Avi sat down beside her. Quietly.

The rain kept falling. No words were needed for a few seconds. Then, Riddhi opened her palm. A tiny rosebud sat in it.

“I took it from your garden yesterday. I didn’t want the rose to be alone.”

Avi looked at her. “Neither did I.”

For the first time, their eyes met—not just as friends, but as something more.

And somewhere in the sky, the rain slowed down. As if even the clouds wanted to listen.

Chapter 5: The Dance of Feelings 

The day of the school’s Monsoon Cultural Event finally arrived. The air smelled of fresh rain, and the sky was a soft grey. Riddhi looked beautiful in her flowing blue dress. Avi wore a white kurta and stood quietly behind the stage curtain, his hands slightly shaking.

“I’m scared,” he whispered.

Riddhi turned to him, her eyes gentle and calm. She held his hand and looked into his eyes.

“Just look at me. Not the crowd.”

Avi nodded, but the nervousness was still there in his eyes. His heart was racing.

Riddhi leaned in slowly and, before he could say anything else, she kissed him gently on the cheek.

It was soft. Just a second long.

But for Avi, time froze.

His face turned warm, and his eyes widened. Riddhi blushed too but smiled.

“That was for luck,” she said, whispering like a secret only the rain could hear.

Avi’s fear melted away.

The music started. On that stage, under bright lights, they danced like they were moving through raindrops—graceful, smiling, hand in hand.

When the dance ended, applause filled the hall. But they didn’t care. Their real moment had already happened—off stage, behind the curtain, in one quiet kiss that said everything their hearts had been holding.

That night, while walking home in the soft rain, Avi looked at Riddhi and said,

“I wasn’t scared of the dance… I was scared of losing this—whatever this is between us.”

Riddhi looked at him and whispered,

“Then hold it like you held my hand.”

And he did.

Chapter 6: A Cloud Between Us

After their magical dance and quiet kiss, Avi and Riddhi were closer than ever. They still walked to school together, shared jokes, and spent time in the garden. But something had changed — they both felt it.

One evening, while planting a new marigold, Riddhi suddenly asked,

“Avi… did anyone see us that day backstage?”

Avi froze for a moment. “I don’t know… maybe not. Why?”

Riddhi looked away. “Some girls were whispering today. They were looking at me and laughing.”

Avi felt a twist in his chest. “About us?”

“I think so,” she said softly. “They said… I’m new and already too close to you. That I’m showing off.”

Avi clenched his fists. “That’s stupid. They don’t know you.”

“But it hurt,” she admitted. “I didn’t come here to become someone’s story.”

A silence grew between them. The garden, which once felt magical, now felt quiet and heavy.

“I wish we could go back to the moment under the umbrella,” she whispered.

Avi looked at her. “We still can. We just need to be honest—with ourselves, and with each other.”

She looked into his eyes. “Then be honest… What are we, Avi?”

He looked down, heart pounding. Then said slowly,

“You’re the best part of my day. The rain. The rose. Everything. I like you. I don’t care what anyone says.”

Riddhi blinked, surprised.

“But I also understand,” Avi added. “If you need space… if you want to slow things down—”

Before he could finish, Riddhi stepped forward and gently placed her forehead against his.

“No. I don’t want space,” she whispered. “I just want… truth. And you.”

The wind picked up. The rain returned—soft, not loud. Like a hug from the sky.

They stood there, holding hands. Not hiding. Not rushing. Just growing—like their garden. Like love.

Chapter 7: Full Bloom

It had been a month since the school performance, their quiet kiss backstage, and their whispered promises in the rain. What started as friendship, then bloomed into something gentle, was now something deeper—something real.

Avi and Riddhi were no longer just classmates. No longer just dance partners. They were each other’s comfort, each other’s secret place. Their love had grown fully—like the rose bush in Avi’s garden, now covered in red and pink flowers.

One Sunday afternoon, after a short drizzle, Riddhi visited Avi’s home. The air smelled of wet mud and jasmine. His garden looked like a painting.

Riddhi smiled as she bent near a flower. “This one bloomed today?”

Avi nodded. “It waited for the rain. Just like us.”

They sat under the small garden shade, close but quiet. The kind of silence where hearts speak more than words.

Avi gently took something out of his pocket—a small ring made of grass and a tiny rosebud.

“It’s not gold or silver,” he said shyly, “but it’s from the soil where we met.”

Riddhi looked at it, eyes wide. “It’s perfect.”

He carefully placed it on her finger. It didn’t shine like jewelry, but it glowed with meaning.

She leaned her head on his shoulder. “I don’t need fancy things. Just this… us.”

They stayed like that, as the sky turned golden, and the earth dried softly beneath their feet.

Then came the moment. Simple. Soft. Real.

Riddhi looked up at him, and Avi touched her cheek, brushing a drop of rain still clinging there.

No fear. No rush.

Their lips met—this time, not shy or unsure.

It was their first real kiss. Quiet, warm, and complete.

A kiss not just of rain, but of roots. Of everything they had grown—slowly, truthfully.

When they pulled apart, Riddhi smiled.

“I think this is what it feels like when love is ready.”

Avi nodded. “Like the last drop that makes a flower open.”

The garden stood still. The breeze whispered through the leaves. And in that moment, nothing else existed—only a boy, a girl, a garden, and a love that had finally bloomed.

  Chapter 8: First Date

The morning sun filtered softly through Avi’s window, warming the room like a gentle promise. Today wasn’t just any day—it was their first real date.

Riddhi arrived, a little nervous but glowing with happiness. Avi greeted her with a shy smile and a small bouquet of wildflowers picked fresh from his garden.

“Happy Independence Day,” he said softly.

Riddhi smiled back, her heart fluttering like the butterflies they had talked about the first time they danced together.

They spent the afternoon wandering through the nearby park, sharing stories, laughter, and dreams beneath the shade of ancient trees. The air was heavy with the scent of wet earth and blooming flowers, and every moment felt like a new petal unfolding.

As the sun dipped low, casting long shadows, Avi took Riddhi’s hand in his.

“Thank you for being with me,” he whispered.

Riddhi squeezed his hand, feeling the steady beat of his heart.

“This is just the beginning,” she said.

And under the soft glow of the setting sun, two young hearts found a rhythm — slow, steady, and true.

Chapter 9: The Monsoon Memory

The rains returned, heavier this time. Thunder rolled gently in the distance as the clouds darkened the sky, but Avi didn’t mind. Rain had always been part of their story.

He stood under the old banyan tree near the school gate, umbrella in hand, waiting.

Riddhi came running toward him, a little late, her braid damp and cheeks flushed. She was laughing—half from the rain, half from joy.

“You’re soaked,” Avi said, holding the umbrella over her.

“So are you,” she grinned, pulling him into the shelter of the tree.

They didn’t say much at first. The rain whispered around them, tapping on leaves, running down bark, soaking into the soil. Their silence was full of memory—their first performance, their secret kiss, the little ring.

“I love how the rain smells,” Riddhi said. “It reminds me of us.”

Avi looked at her, his heart full. “Of how we began.”

A small vendor walked by, carrying hot bhuttas—roasted corn. Avi bought one, split it with her. They ate quietly, sharing smiles between bites, their fingers brushing like shy petals.

Then Riddhi pulled out something from her bag—a tiny notebook.

“What’s that?” Avi asked.

“I’ve been writing,” she said. “Little things. About us.”

She opened it to a page and read aloud:

> You were the first sound in my silence, the first warmth in my monsoon. Not a storm, not a flood, just rain—gentle, needed, soft. You were the rain I waited for.

Avi’s chest tightened. He took the notebook gently and held it to his heart.

“Will you write more?” he asked.

She nodded. “Only if you keep giving me reasons to.”

The rain fell, steady and warm. And beneath that banyan tree, with hearts full of poems and hands full of rain, they knew this wasn’t just young love—it was something they’d remember forever.

 Chapter 10: A House Made of Rain

The rain had paused for once, leaving behind a misty quiet. The trees stood still, their branches heavy with water. Avi had invited Riddhi over again—not to the garden this time, but inside. His parents weren’t home, and the house felt oddly like their own little world.

Riddhi stepped in, barefoot, her anklet softly chiming as she walked on the tiled floor. She wore a simple blue kurta, her braid damp at the ends, and her eyes full of that gentle spark Avi always fell into.

He’d lit a few candles—just enough to make the room feel warm and golden. A record played softly in the background. Old Hindi songs. The kind their grandparents probably danced to.

“You did all this?” she asked, her voice quiet.

Avi shrugged, a little nervous. “I wanted today to feel… different. Like us.”

She smiled, stepping closer. “It already does.”

They sat together on the floor, a blanket over their knees, sipping warm chai and talking about silly things—movies, dreams, the names they’d give their future pets.

Then the music changed to something slower. Softer.

Avi stood and offered his hand. “Dance with me?”

Riddhi laughed, blushing. “There’s no stage here.”

“There’s us,” he said.

And so they danced—slowly, clumsily, wonderfully—in that quiet little room, lit by candlelight and the soft after-rain glow outside. Her head against his chest. His hand at the small of her back. Two heartbeats learning each other’s rhythm.

At one point, the music faded and they didn’t even notice. They were already humming their own song.

Avi leaned down, gently brushing her cheek with the back of his fingers. “You’re the poem I didn’t know I was writing.”

Riddhi looked up, her voice barely a whisper. “And you’re the rain I didn’t know I needed.”

Their lips met again—no lightning, no thunder—just a kiss like falling rain: soft, quiet, and endlessly real.

Later, as they sat curled up against the window, watching the world shimmer in silver mist, Riddhi whispered, “If this house was made of rain, I’d live in it forever.”

Avi smiled. “Then let’s build it—one drop at a time.”

 Chapter 11: The Pause Between 

The rains slowed down that week, as if even the skies needed rest. The days were quieter, the wind softer. But inside Riddhi, something stirred — a feeling she hadn’t spoken aloud yet.

She hadn’t seen Avi in three days.

Not because they fought. Not because they were drifting.

But because sometimes, love pauses not to fade, but to deepen.

That evening, as the golden light pooled through her window, Riddhi scribbled a letter in her notebook. The same one she’d read from under the banyan tree. This page was different more raw.

Avi,

Have you ever felt afraid of how much something means to you? Like if you look at it too long, it might disappear?

That’s how I feel about us sometimes. Not because I doubt you. But because I’ve never had something so real.

You are my calm. My garden. My rain.

And sometimes, that kind of love feels too beautiful to last.

But I want it to. I really, really do.

She folded the note, placed it in a small envelope, and pressed a tiny rose petal between its folds.

Just as she was about to keep it in her bag to give him tomorrow, her phone buzzed.

Avi: “Can we meet? Now?”

Her heart jumped. She didn’t reply. She just grabbed her dupatta, the letter, and ran out — rain boots splashing through puddles like old times.

He was already waiting at their garden—their garden—beside the rose bush that had witnessed everything.

Riddhi walked up, slightly out of breath, cheeks pink from running and emotion.

Before she could speak, Avi stepped forward and held her face gently between his hands.

“I don’t know what tomorrow brings,” he whispered. “But I know this—I’ll fight to make this last.”

Riddhi’s lips trembled.

She didn’t say anything.

She just threw her arms around him and held him tightly—so tightly it almost hurt. And then the tears came, quiet at first, then heavy like monsoon rain.

Avi didn’t ask why.

He didn’t say anything.

He just wrapped his arms around her and held her like he was holding the most fragile, precious part of the world.

And there they stood, under a sky heavy with clouds, two hearts holding each other in the pause between drops.

 Chapter 12: The Last Drop

The monsoon had started to retreat. The days were brighter now, the skies slowly clearing, but Avi and Riddhi knew — some rains never leave.

They were sitting on the school terrace after class, watching the world dry gently below. The tiled floor was still damp, the air carried the last scent of wet earth, and the wind felt like it was whispering goodbye.

But neither of them spoke about endings.

Riddhi leaned her head on Avi’s shoulder, her eyes closed, holding a quiet smile.

“I wish time could pause like this,” she said.

Avi looked at her, his thumb gently tracing circles on her wrist.

“It already has,” he said softly. “Right here.”

They had no grand plans, no promises of forever carved in stone. Just the kind of love that grows slowly, like roots beneath the soil. Unseen, but strong.

Riddhi took out the notebook again—the one filled with small poems, feelings, sketches, and moments. She had saved one last page.

She handed it to Avi.

> This is the end of my writing,

but not the end of us.

Some stories don’t need more pages—

they just need to keep living quietly,

in the spaces between rain and sun.

Avi didn’t say anything. He closed the notebook gently and pulled her into a warm embrace.

This time, she didn’t cry. She just smiled into his chest, her arms around his waist, breathing in the moment like the last scent of rain.

As they walked down the stairs together, hand in hand, the clouds above drifted apart—and the first sunlight after weeks spilled golden across the ground.

The rose bush in Avi’s garden was still blooming.

Not as brightly as before. Not as full.

But it didn’t need to be.

It had already flowered when it mattered most.

And in the quiet between seasons, in a world slowly drying and waking again, two souls walked on—still together, still soft, still blooming…

Like the rose of the rain.

THE END