What started was random drops of water on the land.

Within two minutes, soft drumming of raindrops began gradually like hesitant fingertips on a tabla. Then it turned into a steady downpour, raining cats and dogs.

The sky above Kodaikanal had turned moody and grey.

Just an hour ago, Priya and Deepak had set out towards the lake-laughing, pointing out small tea stalls and horses lined up along the path-but the weather had other plans.

"Run!" Deepak had yelled, tugging her hand as the drizzle turned into a downpour.

Priya was already drenched by the time they reached a narrow awning outside a souvenir shop which too was too packed with crowds.

Babies, old people, teenagers - a diverse population was bait to the unexpected rain.

She laughed helplessly, wiping water off her face. Deepak looked just as miserable but tried to smile.

The two of them ran the last few hundred meters back to their homestay, their slippers squelching with every step, the cold wind biting into their soaked clothes.

The streets of Kodaikanal glistened under the mountain rain and the smell of damp earth, wet wood and distant coffee mixed in the air.

By the time they reached their room, both were shivering. Priya's teeth chattered as she rubbed her arms and Deepak sneezed once, sniffling with a dramatic sigh.

He commented, "The great plan of boating and horse riding has been washed away by the mighty Kodai clouds."

Priya chuckled through her shivers. "Next time, check the weather app."

"You're the one who said mountain weather is always unpredictable," he retorted, playfully shutting the door behind them.

Inside, the room was dim, warm-colored with the bedside lamp glowing like a pumpkin in the corner. They turned on the small heater near the window. It buzzed gently, spreading a warm breath of air into the room.

Outside, the thunder rumbled like distant applause and lightning flashed now and then, silvery and brief.

They stood in the middle of the room, clothes dripping, hair plastered against their faces.

Priya looked like a rain goddess-her kajal smudged just a little, her eyes wide with cold and excitement.

Deepak watched her quietly for a second. She was wiping her face with her dupatta, trying not to shiver.

"Come here," he said gently, reaching for a towel from the bathroom hook.

He offered it to her first. She took it, dried her hair quickly, and then looked up at him. "You're colder than me."

He shook his head, teeth almost clattering. "Let's sit near the heater for a while."

They both settled down on the floor in front of the heater, wrapping a thick blanket over their shoulders like children hiding in a fort.

For a moment, neither spoke. The warmth seeped in slowly-first into their fingertips, then their cheeks, and finally their hearts.

As the thunder cracked again outside, Priya's hand trembled under the blanket. She instinctively moved closer.

Deepak looked at her, unsure. But when she leaned her head on his shoulder, her wet hair brushing his neck, he closed his eyes. It wasn't lust. It wasn't passion.

It was comfort.

She could feel his chest rise and fall slowly like waves. The smell of his rain-drenched shirt mixed with the soft perfume she had worn that morning.

Her breath synced with his.

Slowly, wordlessly, she turned towards him. Her arms found their way around his torso in a quiet embrace, her body had decided before her mind.

He looked down at her, still unsure if this was real.

Her hands felt cold against his damp shirt, but her closeness sent a wave of warmth inside him. It wasn't sudden, or rushed. It was a slow melting of boundaries.

He wrapped his arms around her-deliberately soft, giving her every chance to pull away. But she didn't.

Outside, rain continued its lullaby.

Deepak gently lifted her chin with one hand and looked into her eyes. There was fear, yes, but also trust.

He leaned in and pressed a kiss, not on her lips, not yet... but right on her chin, feather-light and trembling.

She closed her eyes.

And just like that, the kiss lingered longer than a second or more. His lips deepened the arc in her skin. His fingers clasped her jaw, gently and sensually.

Even though he wanted to do more, he felt her heart thumping loudly. Her breath had quickened. Something inside her had lit up and startled her.

He broke the kiss immediately and pulled her closer, not to do more... but to do less.

To tell her it was okay. She was safe...

That he had felt her fears and hesitation; he wouldn't go beyond what she was ready for.

He cradled her head into his chest, one hand gently stroking her damp hair.

"Priya," he whispered softly, lips near her temple, "you're safe."

She didn't reply but she relaxed slowly. She gripped his shirt tighter.

Moments passed in the warm hush of the room: Two rookies learning to ignite the fire of lust and romance....

Deepak, coming to his senses, gave a tiny laugh. "You better go and change, madam. We'll both catch a cold if we sit like this in wet clothes."

Priya, still holding him, chuckled into his shoulder.

"Hmm... okay," she mumbled, and then looked up at him. Her cheeks were flushed, lips trembling with the cold or maybe with hormones.

She ran into the bathroom, turning once before closing the door to flash him a embarrassed grin.

Deepak stared at the closed bathroom door for a long second.

Then he leaned his head back against the wall and let out a long breath.

He was smiling, grinning, jumping mentally in joy. His ears were red. He scratched the back of his head, a bit like a schoolboy and whispered to himself, "We just took our first step..."

The rain outside continued, like music meant only for them.

*****

The bathroom door clicked shut behind her, sealing away the world for a brief moment. Priya leaned back against it, her breath catching in her throat. Her heart was still racing-not from the cold, not from the run through the rain, but from him.

That kiss.

It wasn't like anything she had expected. It hadn't been on her lips. It hadn't been rushed or desperate. It had landed on her chin-soft, questioning, and warm.

He was asking for her permission without using words. Her body had frozen for a second but her heart had thudded so loudly that it echoed in her ears.

He had stopped. He had felt her tremble. Instead of pulling her closer, he had just held her.

Wrapped her in an embrace that wasn't about taking or claiming. It was about keeping her safe.

She opened her eyes slowly and looked at herself in the mirror. Her reflection stared back: wet strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, eyes slightly red, face flushed.

Not from shame, not even embarrassment... but something else.

Love? Lust? Passion? Desire?

She couldn't name it.

She walked slowly to the geyser and turned it on. The heater hummed to life. She touched the water as it warmed, gradually shifting from cold to just right.

Not scalding like she used to prefer to distract her mind, punish her skin.

Today, she didn't need that.

The warmth from that kiss was enough.

As she let the shower run and stepped under it, the water soaked her again but this time it felt soothing.

She closed her eyes and let it trickle down her face, breathing in the mist. For once, the silence inside her head wasn't deafening. It was gentle.

Her thoughts turned to Deepak.

From the first day, he had been patient.

His jokes.

His awkward silences.

The way he would check if she had eaten, if she liked a place, if she was tired. He had made space for her in his life without ever demanding a return.

But she had built a wall. High and thorned. On their wedding night, she hadn't just turned away. She had asked for a divorce.

And he hadn't screamed. He hadn't cursed. He had just sat beside her and asked her why.

Gently. Slowly.

Like someone picking up a broken vase with both hands. Why had she done that?

The memories came, uninvited and sharp. That sickening laughter.

Her young voice screamed, "No."

And the door slamming behind her.

And then came the silence at home. Her mother's narrowed eyes. Her father's dismissive glance.

"Don't make up stories."
"You always wanted attention, Priya."

Her first betrayal came from her parents who never believed her.

Since then, she had learnt to survive. Keep quiet. Dress modest. Speak less. Trust no one.

But Deepak didn't belong to that world of whispers and shadows. He had waited outside the door, every time she locked herself in. He never tried to knock it down. Just waited.

That's the kind of man he was.

And today... as he held her, wet and shivering and vulnerable, he hadn't leaned in to take more. He had stopped.

And he whispered, "You're safe."

She turned off the shower slowly, wrapping herself in the towel. Her skin was warm. Her heart still tender.

As she wiped the foggy mirror, her face reappeared-pink cheeks, wet lashes, lips parted. But there was something else.

Something she hadn't seen in years.

Softness. Femininity.

Priya stared at herself for a long time. Her fingers brushed her cheek where his hand had rested earlier. Her skin still remembered. Not the fear. Not the panic. But the care.

He deserved to know.

He had stood by her through her silence, through the stiff distance between them, through the unanswered questions. If anyone deserved to know why she had flinched from his touch that first night, it was him.

Not because he asked but because she wanted to tell him now.

He needed to hear the truth, and she-maybe for the first time-needed to say it aloud. Not just to him. But to herself.

That whatever happened wasn't her fault. That hiding it hadn't protected her. And that maybe, just maybe, sharing it could be the first step to healing.

Priya tied her hair up loosely, applied a bit of moisturizer, and smiled at her reflection: shy but certain.

"Tonight," she whispered to herself, "I'll tell him everything."

And for the first time in years, that thought didn't terrify her.

*****

The rain still hadn't stopped.

It came down in sheets, tapping the tiled slants of the roofs and forming silver trails across the glass windows. The night air held a sharp chill of ten degrees.

The whole place seemed wrapped in a misty stillness and darkness with streetlight gleaming the roads and buildings.

The restaurant at the homestay was fuller than usual as other guests too, had given up on venturing out. Most tables were occupied-couples, families, even a few solo travelers warming their hands over soup bowls. Dim golden lights cast a soft halo over each table, and there was something almost surreal about the warmth inside against the harsh, cold rain outside.

Priya and Deepak sat at a two-seater by the window, the view fogged with droplets racing each other down the glass. A candle flickered in a tiny glass jar between them, occasionally leaning with the wind sneaking through a small slit in the frame.

Deepak placed the order: one creamy Fettuccine Alfredo, the cream of broccoli soup and a comforting vegetarian sizzler for dinner. And for dessert, a shared bowl of warm chocolate brownie topped with layers of whipped cream and drizzled with liquid chocolate.

He looked at Priya across the table. She wore a warm pink shawl over her salwar, damp ends of her hair resting on her shoulder, her fingers cupped around the complimentary warm water. Her face looked calm, but her eyes had an untold storm.

He tried to lighten the mood.
"Your verdict on pasta?" he asked gently, gesturing toward the plate between them.

"Good," she said, without looking up.

He served the charred vegetables and french fries from the sizzler, "This looks homely."

"Hmm." She agreed with a meek sound.

He gave a little smile partially hurt and unsure of her feeling. Was she awkward about the kiss?

Was it too soon? Too sexual? Too much?

He didn't want to assume. He didn't want to push.

So, he just watched her eat. Slowly. Thoughtfully. She barely looked at him. Her answers never went past one or two syllables.

But Deepak had learned to notice more than words.

The way she tucked her dupatta into her side as if unconsciously shielding herself, how she didn't even taste the dessert when it arrived and most telling of all-how her eyes seemed to drift off every few seconds, lost in thought.

She wasn't avoiding him.

She was preparing herself. For her truth.

Priya's mind was an ocean of whirlpools. Her fork moved to the pasta, then back to her plate.

She wasn't hungry.

She wasn't tired either.

She was... terrified.

A slow-burning fear that had followed her all day had now bloomed into full anxiety. She had decided she would tell him tonight.

Everything that happened.

Why did she fear marriage....

Why did she run away from intimacy...

Why did she ask for a divorce....

And the truth felt like fire in her chest. It hurt, but it was necessary. She owed it to Deepak. He had been nothing but kind, patient, and... gentle.

The kiss on her chin still lingered in her mind. It wasn't sexual. It wasn't possessive.

It was like a hand reaching out across a river of fear, gently asking: May I come closer?

And she had let him.
That's why she had to be honest now.

But she was terrified.

What if he judged her? What if he thought she was tainted? Or worse... what if he stayed with her out of pity?

He has become so important now. He wasn't just her husband by marriage. He was her safe space.

And it was that which made her the most afraid of losing him.

Their dessert lay half-eaten. The brownie had begun to melt into the plate.

Deepak didn't press her. He just smiled and leaned back, occasionally taking a spoonful and watching the rain continue to pour outside. The thunder had slowed to low grumbles, but the cold held strong.

Priya's heart thudded against her ribs. She clutched her shawl tighter around her arms.

"Deepak," she said, her voice trembling slightly. "Please... don't go to sleep early tonight."

He blinked. "Hmm?"

"I need to talk," she said softly. "About what I promised to you...."

*****