Rain tapped gently against the hotel window, a soft rhythm that seemed to echo Hiten’s heartbeat. The streets outside shimmered under the silver wash of the city’s wet lights. Hiten sat by the window, sketchbook in hand, lost in thought, while Dev stretched lazily on the bed, glancing outside.

“This rain… it feels different,” Hiten murmured. “Like it knows something I don’t.”

Dev grinned. “Or maybe it’s just your imagination again, bro.”

Hiten didn’t answer. He was already halfway in a memory, a half-forgotten dream.

---

That night, sleep pulled him into that familiar street — the one he had wandered countless times in dreams. The rain fell steadily, yet silently, each droplet resonating with a quiet rhythm of anticipation. Aarya appeared, her hair damp, eyes glistening with unshed tears.

“Why did you stop writing?” she asked softly, voice trembling like the wind through the trees.

“Because you stopped coming,” Hiten replied, his own voice heavier than he expected.

Aarya shook her head gently, a small smile playing on her lips. “I never stopped coming. You stopped believing.”

The world blurred for a moment, rain merging with mist, and Hiten woke up with a start. The memory of her words lingered, echoing in his chest.

---

Morning came gray and quiet. Hiten and Dev stepped out of the hotel, umbrella shielding them from the drizzle. Hiten’s eyes widened as he scanned the street.

“Bro… Greenwood High is here,” he whispered, disbelief threading his tone.

Dev shrugged casually. “Yeah…?”

Hiten shook his head. “No, it shouldn’t be here. In reality, it shouldn’t exist. But in my dream… it was exactly here. Come with me.”

They turned onto the next street, and Hiten froze. There it was — the house he had lived in during his dreams. The same windows, the same porch, faint traces of paint peeling at the edges. His breath caught.

“Dream and reality… they’re merging,” he murmured, clutching the sketchbook tighter.

Dev smirked, nudging him lightly. “Well, this is… kinda cool. A bit freaky too, bro.”

---

Back at the hotel, Hiten opened the sketchbook again. He flipped through the pages, scanning the familiar drawings until one note caught his eye. He read aloud:

> “Where the first raindrop falls, you’ll find me.”

Dev leaned over, eyebrows raised. “Looks like we’ve got a clue. Fate’s pulling you, man.”

Hiten nodded, a quiet determination settling over him. “She’s out there… somewhere. I can feel it.”

---

Stepping into the rain, the streets glistening under the soft silver light, he clutched the sketchbook tightly. Dev opened the umbrella with a smirk.

“Then let’s head to the library or a bookshop,” Dev said. “Maybe we can figure out where the first raindrops were in your story.”

Hiten’s lips curved in a faint smile. “Let’s go.”

The rain seemed to respond, dripping faster, guiding them toward the next step in their journey. The streets shimmered like liquid silver, and the world felt alive — a perfect balance of dream and reality, waiting for the moment they would finally meet again.