CHAPTER 1-- THE FIRST MEETING

The sky had turned gray, the kind of gray that whispers secrets of an approaching storm. A drizzle had just begun, the drops lightly tapping on the rusted tin roof of the old bus stop. The air smelled of wet earth

The rain had a language of its own — a rhythm that most people ignored, but Aariz always listened. For him, silence wasn’t emptiness; it was music.

He stood at the edge of the bus stop, his black umbrella folded by his side. His shoes were damp from the puddles, but he didn’t mind. Aariz was the kind of person who noticed things others overlooked — the way raindrops gathered at the edge of the tin roof before surrendering, one by one, to the ground. The faint scent of wet soil rising as though the earth itself was breathing. The hurried footsteps of strangers who seemed too busy to notice the beauty of it all.

In his pocket was a small notebook, though no one knew he carried one. Aariz was quiet by nature, but his thoughts were crowded with words he never said aloud. If silence could write poetry, it would sound like the inside of his mind.

And then, she appeared.

A girl rushed under the shelter, holding a battered notebook above her head to shield herself from the drizzle. Her pale blue kurti clung to her sleeves, strands of hair damp against her forehead. She shook her head at the rain as if it were an old, mischievous friend who refused to listen.

Ayla (sighing): “Life is strange… sometimes it gives you what you never ask for, and hides what you truly want.”

The words slipped into the air, light yet heavy, and for some reason, Aariz found himself pausing. He glanced at her — a girl around his age, umbrella still closed in her hand, eyes wandering beyond the rain as if she were speaking more to herself than anyone else.

Aariz (thoughts): “Her words didn’t feel unfamiliar — more like a page torn from my own notebook, spoken aloud by someone else.”

For a moment, he wanted to reply — not with casual words, but with the kind of truth his heart carried. But his tongue, as always, chose silence.

She finally noticed him standing there.

Ayla (smiling politely): “Do you take this bus every day?”

Aariz (softly, with a nod): “Most days, yes.”

Ayla: “Then you must be used to its delays. I’m still not.”

Aariz almost smiled, the corner of his lips twitching.

Aariz: “It’s always late. Rain or no rain.”

She laughed — a small, unguarded laugh — and for reasons he couldn’t explain, it lodged itself in his memory like a bookmark.

The bus screeched to a halt, splashing muddy water near their feet. People hurried forward. She adjusted her bag and climbed onto the bus, but not before turning back for a brief second.

Ayla (with a faint smile): “Well, see you around, maybe.”

Aariz only nodded. But inside, his thoughts whispered something truer.
“Maybe? No… I hope always.”

The bus roared away, carrying her out of sight. Aariz stayed behind, staring at the empty space where she had just stood. The echo of her words wouldn’t leave him.

Life is strange… sometimes it gives you what you never ask for, and hides what you truly want.

He pulled out his notebook and, for the first time in weeks, wrote a single line:
“Sometimes, strangers arrive in the middle of rain, carrying the answers to questions you didn’t know you had.”

The drizzle turned into steady rain, and Aariz slipped the notebook back into his pocket, unaware that his quiet life had just shifted. He didn’t know her name yet. But he knew one thing — this was not the last time their paths would cross.

And perhaps… fate was only just beginning to speak.