I was just trying to get home.

  The rain had been pouring since afternoon, and even though I had an umbrella in my bag, I didn’t bother to take it out. It was already too late. My clothes were damp, my shoes were soaked through, and every step made this annoying squelch sound. All I could think about was my warm bed and maybe a cup of instant noodles.

  College had ended earlier, but I stayed behind for some dumb reason—probably scrolling on my phone or just zoning out. I always did that. Wasting time when I didn’t have much to waste.

  The streets were almost empty. Most people had already rushed home before the real storm hit. Only the occasional car splashing through puddles passed by. The sky was gray, and everything felt heavier under the endless rain.

  I shoved my hands deeper into my pockets and hunched my shoulders, trying to move faster.

  That’s when I saw her.

  At first, I thought my eyes were playing tricks on me. There, on a bench right by the small park I always cut through, someone was sitting. A girl. Completely drenched, not even trying to shield herself from the rain.

  She sat there with her head bowed low, her hair plastered to her face and shoulders. She was trembling slightly, and even though the rain was falling so hard it blurred everything, I could tell—

  She was crying.

  I stopped walking without realizing it. Just stood there, a few meters away, the cold rain running down my face, watching her.

  Something twisted in my chest.

  I don’t usually get involved with random people. Especially not girls. I was never the type to randomly walk up to someone and start a conversation. I mean, what would I even say?

  But something about her felt… wrong.

  No, not wrong — painful.

  Like I'd seen that sadness before. Somewhere. Like... I knew it.

  I swallowed hard. My heart started pounding, harder and faster, and for a second, it felt like I couldn’t breathe properly. I clutched the fabric of my shirt right over my chest.

  Who is she...?

  My mind was racing, but my body moved on its own. Before I knew it, I was standing in front of her, awkwardly holding out my hand like an idiot.

  "You shouldn'—"

  I started to say something. Anything. But then she looked up.

  Our eyes met.

  I forgot how to speak.

  Her eyes were... golden. Not in a weird fantasy way, but in a way that made the world around her seem dull in comparison. They were shining, even through the rain, even though she was crying. It wasn’t just their color.

  It was the feeling in them.

  Like she recognized me too.

  My heartbeat went wild again, slamming against my ribs so hard it almost hurt. I couldn’t look away. It felt like if I blinked, she would disappear, and I would lose something important.

  I shook my head a little, trying to ground myself.

  It’s just because she’s beautiful.

  I told myself that. Over and over.

  Because she was beautiful.

  Not in the fake way you see on magazine covers or whatever. Her beauty was... raw. Real. Almost painfully so. Her skin was pale under the rain, almost glowing. Her black hair stuck to her face and neck, messy but somehow perfect. Her lips trembled slightly, caught between crying and trying not to. And those eyes—

  I looked away for a second to breathe.

  "Um..."

  I forced myself to speak again, clearing my throat.

  "You shouldn’t sit here in the rain," I said, my voice awkward, way softer than I meant it to be. "You’ll get sick."

  She blinked at me. Her body was still trembling, but she wiped her face with the sleeve of her soaked sweater.

  "I don’t have anywhere else to go," she said. Her voice was quiet. Broken. "My parents… They don’t love me."

  I stared at her, unsure if I heard right.

  "Uh... What?"

  "I tried everything," she continued, her hands gripping the edge of the bench tightly. "I was perfect. I did everything they wanted. I got the grades, I learned the manners, I was the daughter they asked for. But it didn’t matter."

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  Her voice cracked.

  "They said... they said they never wanted a girl like me. They wanted a boy. Not me."

  The rain kept falling, washing away her tears, but it couldn’t hide the way she broke when she said that.

  I had no idea what to say.

  No idea how to fix this.

  What could you even say to something like that?

  But... standing there, seeing her like that, made something inside me tighten. I couldn’t just walk away.

  So I did the only thing I could think of.

  I knelt down in front of her, ignoring the cold water soaking into my jeans, and reached out carefully, almost scared she’d pull away.

  I took her hand.

  It was freezing.

  "You’re a good girl," I said, the words stumbling out of me. "That’s what matters. Not what they think. You’re... You’re fine the way you are."

  I wiped a tear from her cheek with my thumb, gently.

  She looked at me with wide eyes, like she didn’t know what to do.

  "C’mon," I said, standing up and offering her my hand again. "Let’s get some coffee or something. You can’t just sit here all night."

  For a second, I thought she wouldn’t move. But then she reached out slowly, hesitantly, and took my hand.

  Her fingers curled around mine, tight. Like she was scared if she let go, I’d vanish.

  I helped her up, and we started walking.

  Neither of us said much. The rain pounded on the pavement around us, and her steps were small and careful, like she was scared she’d slip. I kept glancing at her out of the corner of my eye.

  She was hugging herself, shivering.

  Without thinking, I shrugged off my jacket and draped it over her shoulders.

  She blinked up at me, surprised.

  "You’ll catch a cold," I mumbled, trying not to look at her directly.

  She smiled. Just a tiny, broken smile.

  But it was the first time I saw her smile at all.

  We found a little convenience store a few blocks away. The kind that always smelled like cheap instant ramen and floor cleaner.

  Inside, it was warm and brightly lit. My eyes burned from the sudden change, and for a moment, both of us just stood there awkwardly, dripping water everywhere.

  The clerk gave us a weird look but didn’t say anything.

  I grabbed two hot coffees from the machine near the counter and paid quickly. Then we sat down at one of those tiny metal tables shoved into the corner.

  She wrapped her hands around the paper cup like it was the only source of warmth in the world.

  "Thank you," she whispered.

  I shrugged. "It’s nothing."

  We sipped coffee in silence for a while.

  Finally, she spoke again.

  "My name’s Ayesha," she said, her voice a little stronger now.

  I nodded. "Haider."

  She repeated it softly, like she was testing how it felt.

  "Haider..."

  My heart skipped a beat again for some reason.

  "So..." I said, trying to sound casual, "do you always sit on benches in thunderstorms, or is today special?"

  She actually laughed a little. It was quiet and tired, but real.

  "I guess today was special," she said. "It’s my birthday."

  I blinked.

  "Wait. Seriously?"

  She nodded.

  "And you’re out there... alone?"

  She shrugged, looking down at her coffee.

  "I didn’t really have anyone to celebrate with."

  Something inside me twisted again, sharp and painful.

  That wasn’t fair. Nobody deserved to feel like that. Especially not on their birthday.

  "Happy birthday, Ayesha," I said.

  She looked up at me, surprised.

  "Even if it’s a little late," I added awkwardly.

  She smiled again, a little bigger this time.

  "Thanks," she whispered.

  She stared into her coffee for a while, like it was showing her a future she didn’t want to see.

  "I don't want to go back," she said quietly.

  I set down my cup.

  "Back... home?"

  She nodded without looking up. Her fingers tightened around the paper cup so hard it crinkled.

  "I don’t have anywhere else to go," she said. "But if I go back there... it’s like I don’t exist. No one talks to me. No one looks at me. It’s like they’re just... waiting for me to disappear on my own."

  I didn’t know what to say.

  I wasn’t exactly the most emotionally intelligent guy out there. I didn’t read self-help books or watch therapy videos.

  But sitting there, watching her—

  It didn’t feel like this was something I could just ignore.

  I leaned back in my chair, running a hand through my wet hair.

  "You have any friends you can stay with?" I asked.

  She shook her head.

  "I wasn’t allowed to make friends."

  "Relatives?"

  Another shake.

  The rain outside kept hitting the glass windows in a dull rhythm, like a ticking clock.

  "...If you want..." I started, then hesitated.

  Are you seriously about to say this, Haider?

  "...You can crash at my place for a while. Until you figure something out."

  Her head jerked up.

  Her eyes widened, staring at me like I’d just told her the sun was hers.

  "You mean it...?" she whispered.

  "Yeah," I said, scratching the back of my neck awkwardly. "I mean, it’s nothing fancy. It’s a small apartment. Cramped, actually. I barely have enough space for myself. But... you know. It’s dry. And warm."

  A beat of silence passed.

  Then — to my complete shock — she smiled.

  Not the small broken one from earlier. A real smile.

  It was the kind of smile that hit you straight in the chest and made your stupid heart do somersaults.

  "I'd really like that," she said.

  And just like that, it was decided.

  ---

  We finished our coffee and headed out again. The rain had slowed to a drizzle, but it was still cold. I kept sneaking glances at her as we walked.

  Ayesha stayed close to me. Not touching, but close enough that if I moved a little, our arms would brush.

  I lived in a crummy part of town.

  The kind of neighborhood where the paint peeled off the walls and stray cats fought in the alleyways at night.

  But somehow, walking there with her by my side, it didn’t feel so bad.

  We climbed the narrow, creaky staircase up to the third floor. I fished out my keys and opened the door.

  The apartment smelled like old books and instant noodles.

  I stepped aside to let her in.

  "Uh... Sorry about the mess," I muttered, suddenly very aware of the pile of laundry in the corner and the stack of half-read textbooks on the table.

  She walked in slowly, like she was stepping into some ancient temple.

  "It’s nice," she said, smiling again.

  I laughed under my breath.

  "You don’t have to lie."

  She shrugged off my jacket, folding it neatly before placing it on the back of a chair.

  Then she just... stood there.

  Looking around like she was trying to memorize every inch of the place.

  I closed the door behind us and locked it.

  "So... I only have one bed," I said, scratching the back of my head again. "You can take it. I'll crash on the floor."

  She shook her head immediately.

  "No! I can't do that to you!"

  "It’s fine. I’m used to it," I said with a small grin. "I slept on floors a lot during exam season."

  She still looked guilty, but she didn’t argue more.

  Instead, she sat on the edge of the bed, looking small and uncertain.

  "Are you... sure it’s okay?" she asked again.

  "Yeah," I said, sitting down cross-legged on the floor across from her. "I wouldn’t have offered if I wasn’t."

  She smiled again — softer this time.

  Then she looked down at her hands, fidgeting with the hem of her sweater.

  "Haider," she said quietly.

  "Yeah?"

  "Thank you."

  I shrugged.

  "It’s nothing."

  But the way she said it — like I had just saved her whole world — made something stir inside me.

  Something warm.

  Something dangerous.

  I shook it off.

  "Alright," I said, clapping my hands together. "Rule number one: You’re not allowed to judge my cooking."

  She laughed — a real laugh — and it lit up the whole room.

  "I’m serious," I said, grinning. "It’s basically just noodles or... more noodles."

  "I like noodles," she said, giggling.

  "Good," I said, standing up and stretching. "You’ll fit right in."

  I grabbed a towel from the bathroom and tossed it to her.

  "You should get out of those wet clothes," I said, immediately realizing how bad that sounded. "I mean—not like that! I mean—there’s some clothes you can borrow. Old hoodies and stuff."

  She laughed again, covering her mouth shyly.

  "I know what you meant," she said.

  I dug through my closet and found an old oversized hoodie and a pair of sweatpants.

  I handed them to her without meeting her eyes.

  "You can change in the bathroom," I mumbled.

  She nodded and disappeared inside.

  ---

  While she changed, I tried to clean up a little — moving dirty clothes into a laundry basket, clearing off the table, making space for her stuff even though she didn’t have anything.

  When she came out, wearing my hoodie that was way too big for her, she looked...

  I swallowed hard.

  She looked like she belonged here.

  Her hair was still damp, curling slightly at the ends. She hugged the hoodie sleeves to her chest, looking both shy and content.

  "You look..."

  I caught myself before I said cute.

  "...warm," I finished lamely.

  She smiled that soft, heart-breaking smile again.

  "Thank you," she said. "For everything."

  I rubbed the back of my neck, feeling awkward again.

  "It’s really no big deal," I said. "You can stay here as long as you need."

  She looked at me — really looked at me — and for a second, the room felt smaller, warmer.

  "Even if it's forever?" she asked, half-joking, half-serious.

  I laughed.

  "Let’s start with a few days first, yeah?"

  She giggled softly, sitting back down on the bed and curling her legs underneath her.

  I sat back down on the floor, leaning my head against the side of the bed, feeling weirdly... calm.

  The rain kept falling outside.

  The apartment was warm and smelled faintly of coffee and rainwater.

  And for the first time in a long time, I didn’t feel so alone.