The rain came down in sheets, drumming against the pavement as you dashed under a small tea stall’s awning, shaking droplets from your hair. You weren’t alone—John was already there, leaning against the wooden counter with a steaming cup of chai in his hand. His shirt clung to him from the rain, making his presence even harder to ignore. He glanced at you, lips curling into that soft half-smile. “Looks like you just made it in time.”

You laughed nervously, brushing your wet clothes, and he offered the cup in his hand. “Here, share. You’ll freeze otherwise.”

You hesitated, but his tone wasn’t commanding—it was gentle, coaxing. When your fingers brushed his as you accepted the cup, a shiver ran through you, one that had nothing to do with the storm. His eyes lingered, watching you sip as though it was the most important thing in the world.

The silence wasn’t awkward—it was heavy with something unspoken. The thunder rolled, the city blurred behind sheets of rain, and for a moment, it felt like the world had shrunk to just the two of you under that little shelter. He tilted his head, watching you with that steady gaze, and finally said, “Funny… never thought the rain would bring me better company than the chai.."