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I could walk you by, and I'll tell without a thought.

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The rain had stopped by morning, leaving behind puddles that shimmered under the weak sunlight. The world outside seemed refreshed, alive, but Ishanvi felt far from grounded. She couldn't shake the memory of him—the rain-drenched stranger who had walked into the coffee shop and effortlessly stolen her peace of mind.

By sheer coincidence—or perhaps fate, as Ishanvi began to secretly hope—she found herself seeing him again. It was two days later, at the same coffee shop, as she settled into her usual corner by the window. He walked in, this time dry and collected, wearing a charcoal-gray hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly tousled. The sight of him made her pulse quicken, though she kept her gaze fixed on her notebook, pretending to scribble something important.

She told herself it was nothing—just an ordinary stranger whose presence had, for some inexplicable reason, stayed with her. But as he stood at the counter, laughing softly at something the barista said, she knew she was already in deeper than she cared to admit.

His name, she learned through fragments of casual conversation floating through the café, was Nitish. He seemed at ease with everyone, exchanging easy smiles and words with the staff. Ishanvi couldn't help but notice how he radiated an understated warmth, a quiet charm that didn't demand attention but effortlessly earned it.

Over the next week, she learned more about him in bits and pieces—each visit to the coffee shop a chance to gather small details, like a jigsaw puzzle she was piecing together. He liked his coffee black, no sugar. He often carried a sketchbook, occasionally jotting something in it while sipping his drink. He had a habit of tapping his fingers rhythmically on the table when lost in thought.

She caught herself glancing at the door every time it opened, her heart leaping whenever it was him. She noticed how her cheeks flushed when their eyes met, how her thoughts drifted to him when she was supposed to be working. She didn't even know him, not really, but it didn't matter. There was something about Nitish that made her heart ache in the most beautiful way, as if falling for him was inevitable.

Once, she was bold enough to linger by the counter after ordering her latte, just to hear him speak. His voice was deep and smooth, with a warmth that made her stomach flip. When he thanked the barista, his smile tugged at the corners of his mouth in a way that felt so effortlessly genuine it left her breathless.

And yet, Nitish didn't seem to notice her at all. If he recognized her from the rain-drenched encounter at the door, he didn't show it. He was polite, of course, but his attention never lingered on her. She was just another face in the café, part of the background of his day.

It stung, more than she wanted to admit. But instead of discouraging her, it only made her fall harder. The more she observed him, the more she admired him—the way he seemed so comfortable in his own skin, the quiet confidence he exuded, the way he seemed to light up the room without even trying.

For Ishanvi, it was like walking into a storm, knowing it would drench her to the bone but stepping forward anyway. Nitish had become her storm, and she was powerless to resist.

One day, as he passed by her table, she glanced up and smiled. To her surprise, he returned it, a fleeting but genuine smile that sent her heart racing. It wasn't much, but for Ishanvi, it felt like the beginning of something she couldn't quite name yet.

And even if he didn't know it, she was falling, falling for him harder and faster than she ever thought possible.