Chapter 4: After the Storm

The rain slowed as I reached the railway station where Kabir usually got off. Chaos reigned—firefighters, medics, people shivering under a leaky tin roof. The whole station had turned into a rescue site. I stood frozen, the city’s heartbeat pounding in my ears.

My phone buzzed.

[Didi, my phone got soaked. Just fixed it.]

[Brought you a pastry, I’ll be home soon~]

He’d added a cartoon puppy sticker, clutching a heart. [The little puppy likes you best]

I stared at the screen, numb. Was it possible to feel hope and heartbreak in the same breath?

After a moment, I replied: [I’m at the train station, Dadar East Exit.]

Soon, Kabir emerged from the crowd—fresh-faced despite the mess, tall and slim, those red lips and fair skin drawing glances. Even in a plain tee and old jeans, he looked like a film poster.

People stared, some whispering. Kabir frowned, scolding like an elder brother, “Didn’t I tell you to stay home, Ananya? You never listen. Always running around in the rain—want to fall sick again?”

He shrugged off his jacket, draping it over my shoulders. The scent—sandalwood, monsoon, something only his—hit me, making my eyes sting.

“I thought you’d died in there,” I whispered, pointing to the rescue chaos. I wanted to cry, but only a dry ache came out.

“You said you were on the train, then nothing. News said the station was flooded. I was scared. I walked through the rain, fought the crowds. Someone tried to stop me, said not to go inside. I told them, my boyfriend’s still in there—if I die, I’ll die with him.”

“Kabir—” My eyes were raw, begging for understanding. “When I was so worried I nearly lost my life, where were you?”

He dropped his gaze, lashes shadowing his face. The playful spark was gone. Maybe he finally understood, or maybe he was just laughing at me inside.

He turned away, giving that half-smile. “Of course, I was out buying you pastry, didi.”

No—you were out with your rich friends, laughing at my love. My heart twisted with shame and rage. Before I could say more, he crouched, back turned.

“Chalo, let’s go home. You’ll really get sick now.”

Kabir scooped me up, wading through the filthy, waist-high water. I felt strangely weightless, the city blurring by. In my ears, my own voice whispered, “Go home for what, Kabir? Our home is gone.”