اس سلیقے سے یاد آ تے ہو
جیسے بارش ہو وقفے وقفے سے

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A swarm of murky, chaotic clouds pervading the midday sky and the loud rumbling emitting through them prompted him to stop in his tracks.

Haroon looked at the ever-darkening sky through the glassy window of the cafe he was about to stride out of. In a blink of his inky eyes, a crystal drop of water graced the outer screen of the window, leisurely trailing down until it was soon joined by the countless drops of water, rolling into a stream.

Lightning split the sky, clouds growled and it started pouring.

The faces of people around him bloomed in delightful smiles at the arrival of the first rain of July; some of them rushing outside to relish in the blessing of nature, and some of them scurrying to find a shade but Haroon's visage strained into melancholy because, for him, the rain fell like memories.

Her memories.

The smell of petrichor wafted through his senses and transposed into a familiar fragrance of presence.

Her presence.

The thrumming sound of water hitting the ground played like a song of absence.

Her absence.

And, whenever it rained, it ached.

His heart ached with excruciating longing; his soul shattered into pieces and each piece yearned for her.

He had met her for the first time on a rainy day like that.

Standing outside his college campus, soaked from head to toe with his clothes vexatiously sticking to his skin and the prickling cold seeping in, he had been a picture of misery.

Nothing was going right that day. First, he had failed to win the tennis championship he had participated in and then he was failing to find a shelter―or conveyance to go back home.

A string of curses left his lips as he kept getting drenched when suddenly it stopped raining over him and a spectrum of colours appeared over his head.

Startled, he swerved his head and came across a woman standing beside him, her sylphlike fingers holding the umbrella covering his frame.

It was her.

Her, with dreamy black eyes. Her, with delicately carved features. Her, with faintly damp tendrils of brown hair alluringly swaying with the wind.

"Seems like you don't like the rain so much," her mellifluous voice had dominated his aural against the thrashing sound of rain.

"It's a pain," he had managed to murmur somehow.

"I think it washes away the pain and misery." She had said that with a lovely tilt of her head, looking into his eyes with a little smile touching upon her lips.

He couldn't look away.

And then, the moment had been broken by the honking sound of a car.

"Keep it." She had handed over the umbrella to him despite his reluctance and protests and shielding her face from the violent drops of water with her hands, she was ready to sprint towards the car.

But before leaving, she had turned around in the rain to face him.

"Hey, you can't have a rainbow without the rain." Pointing her finger up, implying to the multi-coloured umbrella of hers he was holding, she had given him the most breathtaking smile nothing in the world could rival.

It was a splash of colours, a sight of heaven, an explosion of warmth that brushed away the cold and melted his insides.

The person who was waiting for her in the car had yelled something to her but he could only focus on one word.

Her name. Ainy.

Ainy.

Haroon shut his eyes, stopping himself from swooping deeper into the past. He shook his head and looked outside. The rain had halted for now but the sky was still enclosed with menacing clouds.

He stepped out of the cafe and started walking alongside the wet pavement, seeing his vague reflection in the puddles that had formed on the road.

Passing by a crowded lane with street vendors selling different things, his eyes descended on one particular cart of roasting corns and he couldn't quell the achingly beautiful memory that traversed his mind.

"Seriously, Ainy, you made me bunk my lecture to eat corn?" Haroon asked with an irked glare to Ainy who was busy sinking her teeth into the luscious gold kernals.

"Of course. Stop crying over that boring chemistry lecture and enjoy the flavour of monsoon. Nothing beats  corn with lemon and spices on a rainy day, aaah!" Ainy swooned adoringly, making him chuckle and join in as they ate roasted corn under the cloudy skies, sitting on a rustic bench by the street while Neele Neele Ambar Per played on the radio placed on the vendor's cart.

A blue smile touched his lips as his legs continued the cycle of motion, his mind filling with flashes of moments he had spent with her.

"What's one thing you like about me?" she had asked him one day out of nowhere.

"Nothing." His reply had moulded her traits into a harsh frown.

"Really? There's not a single thing you like about me?" she had huffed with a  pout.

"Nope."

"Hmph!"

How could he have told her that there wasn't a single thing he liked about her because he loved everything about her.

He loved her.

Earnestly.

Devotedly.

Passionately.

But, they were friends and he was scared to cross the threshold of friendship and ask for more. Insecurities, fears, stopped him for a long time to voice out his feelings.

The day he finally compiled the courage to tell her that she was not just his friend; she was his whole world, it was too late.

She had left.

To chase her dreams. To another country. Without saying goodbye. Without giving him a chance to say the words he had repeated a thousand times in the privacy of his heart.

All she had left him with was her heart-wrenching memories that he could never get over. Not in this life.

The clouds howled again and unleashed another downpour on earth. A million drops of water coated Haroon's form, saturating his clothes and prickling his skin but he didn't move.

His legs became heavy and he felt too drained to take a step. The pain of her absence consumed him, overwhelmed him.

He missed her. Immensely.

He stood under the rain, getting drenched, letting the chilly winds accompanying the shower whip his skin.

A lone tear escaped his eyes, mixing with the silver drops of water streaming down his face.

Would he never see her again?

Closing his eyes, he tilted his head upwards, letting the rain touch him in a hope to wash away the yearning―the ache inside, just like she used to say.

He wanted to see her. He badly wanted to see her.

"You haven't changed at all, Haroon."

His eyes opened against a kaleidoscope of seven colours draped over his head and his heart skipped a beat when the feminine voice he had been craving to hear all this time stroked his ears.

Slowly, very slowly, he swerved his head to the right and his breath hitched in his throat when his eyes fell on the love of his life holding the umbrella in her hands, standing in front of him like a wish come true.

"You still don't have an umbrella," she intoned and her lips curved into a nostalgic smile.

Haroon stared at her breathlessly, without blinking, scared that she was just a figment of his imagination and will fade away if he dared to blink.

Was she here?

His wet fingers trembled as he stealthily raised his cold hand and pressed it against her cheek. A surge of warmth coursed through every fibre of his being at the contact and he suddenly felt alive.

"Ainy. You're... real. Y-You are here."

She took a step closer, her coal-black irises burning into his and a spiral of profound emotions twirling in her eyes.

"I missed you, Haroon."

Her words were like a soothing caress to his listless heart. His eyes fluttered closed and a relieved sigh spilled from his lips.

She was here. She was back.

He opened his eyes, savouring the sight of her. Her wet hair was slicked back, highlighting her pale yet candescent face. The kohl was smeared around the edges of her beautiful eyes and her moist rosette lips were parted as she stared at him.

She was wearing a violet dress; her least favourite colour―his most favourite colour.

He wouldn't let her go anywhere this time.

No, he wouldn't.

"I have something to tell you. Many things. So many things." Haroon's voice was laced with years of wistfulness; his throat clogging with unspoken confessions, oh-so-eager to break free.

"I'll listen to everything. I won't leave again."

And then she gave him the same enthralling smile he was so fond of. The smile that swept him off his feet and painted his grey world into beautiful hues of a rainbow.

Thunder struck, winds blew and it kept raining but it finally stopped raining in Haroon's heart.

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WORD COUNT: 1500

Heyo, Wattfellas! Wrote this little piece for a monsoon contest organised by AmbassadorsPK  based on the prompt: Whenever it rains, it aches.

Fun fact: It was actually raining when I wrote this and listening to Atif Aslam's rainy playlist just made everything more magical. I had a wonderful time writing it and I hope you enjoy reading too.

I'm linking the playlist above so do listen to it and thank me later haha! ;)

If you're also missing someone like Haroon :P I hope you see them again on a beautiful rainy day.

Thanks for reading. ❣️