Rain had a rhythm of its own  -  steady, soft, and unpredictable. The kind that could pull anyone out of routine.

It had been a week since their presentation — a quiet week, filled with unfinished thoughts and silent questions he couldn’t quite name.

It was a quiet Saturday afternoon, and he was surrounded by open notebooks, neatly written notes, and the faint scent of coffee cooling beside him. His desk lamp glowed a mellow yellow, bouncing softly off the rain-tinted window beside him. He had been revising the week's lectures, underlining key points, flipping through references  -  everything in perfect order.

But then came that sound  -  the rain, sudden and insistent, like a melody breaking through the calm.

He looked up. The world outside was drenched, every leaf glistening, the pavement shimmering beneath the drizzle. For a moment, his pen hovered in the air before he set it down with a quiet sigh.

He wasn't the kind to be impulsive. Yet something about rainy days drew him out  -  the silence they carried, the nostalgia they stirred. Within minutes, he was standing in front of the mirror, combing his hair, buttoning his dark shirt, pulling on a jacket that fit just right. He grabbed his umbrella, his watch, and the car keys.

By the time he stepped outside, the rain had softened to a mist. The world felt newer, washed, rearranged.

His phone buzzed just as he got into the car.

"Café Lumière?" the message read.

He smiled slightly. His childhood friend, the one person who had known him the longest, who could read his silences better than anyone. They were now in different majors, living separate academic lives, but their friendship had remained untouched by distance or time. He didn't think twice before replying with a simple, 'On my way.'

The café stood on a cobbled corner of one of the city's quieter streets, framed by tall, swaying trees. Its name, "Café Lumière", fits it perfectly. Warm lights spilt through its tall, one-way glass walls, glowing like gold against the greys of the rainy day. Inside, the scent of roasted beans and fresh pastries lingered in the air, and a soft melody from an old piano tune filled the background.

They found a spot right beside the massive glass window  -  the perfect view. Outside, the rain made everything softer, reflections blending into one another - headlights, leaves, umbrellas, all shimmering together.

His friend leaned back, stretching. "Same old weather, huh? Let me get our order," he said with his usual easy grin before heading to the counter.

Left alone, he turned toward the glass.

Outside, the street was alive  -  umbrellas bloomed like colours in motion, the pavement glistened, and cars hissed past puddles. The rain had its own quiet music.

And then  -  something, or rather someone  -  caught his eye.

She.

A flash of forest green amidst the silver rain.

The one holding it walked briskly, crossing the zebra crossing just a few feet from where he sat.

Her steps were light, quick, as if her heart already knew where she was headed

For a heartbeat, his world stilled.

She was facing toward him as she crossed  -  her umbrella tilted slightly, rain sliding off its edges like pearls. She was smiling  -  no, beaming  -  her lips curved wide, her eyes bright, her face glowing with a warmth he had never seen before. It wasn't the quiet composure she always wore in class; it was something freer, almost radiant.

And in that instant, it hit him.

She looked… breathtaking.

Maybe it was the rain, maybe it was the light from the café window casting a soft sheen on her face, or maybe it was simply her. She was dressed differently today  -  not extravagant, but more put-together, more thoughtful. The soft colour of her outfit complemented her perfectly. It almost looked as if she was meeting someone special.

And as she smiled  -  really smiled, wide enough that her eyes almost disappeared  -  he felt his heartbeat falter, missing a rhythm.

He didn't realise when the corners of his own lips lifted faintly, or when his hand loosened around the coffee cup he wasn't even aware he was holding.

Just then, another girl appeared from the opposite sidewalk, also carrying an umbrella, calling her name with delight.

The next moment, she  -  the girl he thought he knew  -  broke into a run. Her umbrella tilted back slightly, raindrops scattering off its surface as she hurried across the wet street.

The world seemed to blur around her.

She reached her friend, her laughter ringing even through the sound of rain. And right there, on the sidewalk in front of the café, she threw her arms around the other girl, hugging her tightly, her joy unrestrained. They both laughed, pulled back, said something he couldn't hear, and hugged again  -  like two souls finally finding home after years apart.

He couldn't look away.

Through the glass, he watched as her happiness spilt out of her  -  that unguarded, glowing energy that made everything around her seem alive. And for a second time, he saw that smile  -  the same one he had caught once before, the day she had rushed into class, drenched from the rain.

It wasn't shy or quiet. It was real. Confident. Unafraid.

And in that moment, sitting behind the glass, he understood something he hadn't dared to name until now.

He was in love with her.

Not because she was beautiful  -  though she was, achingly so.

But because she was different when she was herself.

His friend returned with their order, setting down the mugs, pulling him back into the moment.

"What are you looking at?" his friend asked, following his gaze outside.

He blinked, exhaled slowly, and shook his head, forcing his voice to sound casual. "Nothing. Just the rain.

But then he saw her again  -  stepping into the café now, shaking off the water from her umbrella, still laughing with her friend. They headed upstairs, not even glancing toward his side.

And though the glass wall reflected only one side of the story, he knew what he had just seen would stay with him  -  the moment she smiled in the rain, her laughter lingering longer than the sound of falling drops.

As his friend talked, he found himself looking at the empty staircase where she had disappeared.

For the first time, the rain outside didn't feel distant  -  it felt like it was echoing something within him.

And he thought, almost absently  -  so this is what it feels like.