Chapter 1: Whispers of the Rain
The rain hadn’t stopped for three days. It didn’t pour. It just… lingered — like a whisper that never found the courage to become a sentence. The city’s heartbeat slowed under grey skies, and somewhere in a quiet café near the old book street, Nivedya sat, tracing circles on a coffee-stained napkin. His fingers trembled not from the cold, but from everything that still lived inside him.
Across the table, Kisha looked at him. Not with anger. Not with regret. Just... stillness. As if her soul had reached a place even her own words couldn’t enter anymore.
“Do you want to say something?” she finally asked, her voice soft, but deliberate.
Nivedya smiled. That half-smile — the one he wore when he was in pain and trying to pretend otherwise.
“I don’t think words will do justice,” he said, eyes still fixed on the napkin. “Not anymore.”
There it was again — the silence. Not the kind that screams, not the one that suffocates. But the kind that remembers.
They hadn’t spoken in two months before this meeting. Two long months of unsent messages, unfinished poems, unspoken prayers. Not because they didn’t care, but because they cared too much.
Nivedya had always been the quiet kind. He wrote more than he spoke, felt more than he showed. And Kisha… she was fire wrapped in silk. She would light up every room she walked into, but inside her, storms raged that no one could see — except him.
They weren't lovers. They weren’t even officially friends anymore.
They were something else — something without a name but with every emotion possible attached to it.
“I saw that old sketch you posted,” she said, breaking the silence. “The one with the closed eyes and bleeding heart.”
He didn’t look up. “It wasn’t just a sketch,” he replied. “It was... you.”
Kisha didn’t flinch. But her eyes blinked slower, and he could tell — that hit her.
Once, long ago, they had shared dreams over midnight calls and music they never danced to. They had built a world where feelings mattered more than labels. But the world outside — reality — had other plans.
She had to move to another city. He had to stay back.
Promises were made, but hearts are fragile. And distance? It doesn’t break love. It changes it.
“You stopped writing to me,” she said, after a pause. “That hurt more than you know.”
“I didn’t stop feeling you,” he answered. “That’s worse.”
And just like that, silence returned. Heavy. Sacred.
Kisha looked outside the café window. A little boy was jumping into puddles, laughing like life hadn’t yet taught him pain.
She envied him.
Nivedya followed her gaze and smiled faintly. “Do you remember the rain in Delhi that day? You held my hand the whole metro ride.”
“You had cold hands,” she whispered, “but your heart was so warm.”
He chuckled — a sound full of memories. But laughter, today, couldn’t erase the sadness they wore.
They weren’t saying goodbye. That had already happened, quietly, months ago. This… this was the acknowledgement of that goodbye. And somehow, that made it even more real.
“I’ll never forget you,” Kisha said suddenly.
“You don’t have to,” Nivedya replied. “I never left.”
And that’s when her eyes welled up — not with regret, but with acceptance.
Some people come into your life like chapters, and others like entire books.
Kisha and Nivedya? They were unfinished poetry. No period. No conclusion. Just... a pause that would last forever.
As she stood to leave, the chair creaked like the last page of a story being turned.
He didn’t stop her. He simply watched.
She paused at the door, looked back once — and smiled.
It wasn’t a “goodbye.”
From the Book: Unsaid Yet Felt
This story is taken from Unsaid Yet Felt, a collection of 15 heartfelt stories written by Rishabh Bhatt. Each story explores emotions of love, heartbreak, healing, and self-discovery. If this chapter touched your heart, you can get the complete book and experience the journey.
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