August rain came without warning.

One minute, the city was humming under a sleepy grey sky, and the next — thunder cracked like it was splitting the clouds in two, and a waterfall dropped straight from the heavens.

It was a Sunday, late afternoon. Vinna had just finished her test series at the coaching center and was halfway down the block when the sky turned traitor.

She didn't have an umbrella. Of course she didn't.

Her tote bag was slung over one shoulder, filled with notes and OMR sheets that would melt like sugar if the rain touched them. She pressed it to her chest and made a run for the nearest building alcove, dodging puddles like landmines.

And then, out of nowhere—

"Oi!"

She turned. A familiar figure was jogging toward her, hoodie half-zipped, holding a black umbrella like a sword.

Rishi.

"You'll get sick," he said, not as a warning, more like a casual fact. "Come on."

Without waiting, he held the umbrella above her, adjusting his grip so there was more space on her side.

She hesitated for only a second before stepping closer.

Now they were standing shoulder to shoulder, close enough that she could hear his breath between the thunder, close enough that she had to look away to stop herself from staring at his jawline.

"Didn't know you were in class today," he said.

"I took the morning slot," she replied. "Wanted to get it over with."

"Smart."

They began walking back toward their building, sharing the small umbrella between them. The rain wasn't gentle—it came down in sheets, bouncing off the concrete and soaking their shoes.

"Physics section?" he asked.

"Brutal," she muttered. "Like they wanted to personally hurt me."

He chuckled. "That's the spirit."

As they crossed the main road, a scooter splashed a puddle near their feet. Vinna squeaked and instinctively clutched Rishi's arm to balance herself. Her fingers curled around the sleeve of his hoodie.

He didn't say anything.

She let go quickly, mumbling, "Sorry."

He looked down at her and smiled. "No refunds."

By the time they reached their building, they were both damp from the knees down, and laughing in a way that felt... light. Like neither of them had talked about exams or ranks or ruined test papers in hours.

Just laughter. Just rain. Just two people caught in a small moment outside their usual worries.

They stepped into the lobby, and Rishi closed the umbrella, water dripping onto the mat.

Vinna turned to him, tucking a strand of wet hair behind her ear. "Thanks for rescuing me."

He gave her a crooked smile. "Anytime. You've officially used one free umbrella pass."

She smiled, cheeks pink. "I'll remember that."

They stood there for a second too long—awkward in the silence but not uncomfortable.

Then the lift dinged.

She stepped inside first. "Want to come up later? I was going to revise capacitors."

Rishi leaned on the lift door. "I'll bring snacks."

As the doors closed between them, Vinna bit her lower lip, trying not to grin.

Later that evening, Rishi arrived with a tiffin box full of samosas and two copies of the same question bank. They sat cross-legged on the floor, their books spread around them, sticky notes flying.

Halfway through a problem, Rishi glanced at her and said, "You're not as quiet as you pretend to be."

Vinna looked up, surprised. "What do you mean?"

"You talk a lot when you're comfortable."

She blinked. "Is that a bad thing?"

He shook his head. "It's a good thing."

There it was again—that pause. The unspoken thing hanging in the air.

It wasn't a confession.
It wasn't a moment.

But it was... the beginning of one.