Soaked Strangers

 

Prithvi left the office early. Today was special—he was about to meet a girl, not just any girl, but one from an arranged marriage setup. His heart was beating faster than usual, and a strange mix of excitement and nervousness followed him all the way to the parking lot.

He called her.

She answered with a warm tone, "I’ll be leaving the office soon. I’ll reach the café on time—the one I decided."

As he hung up, light raindrops began tapping on his helmet. He glanced up at the grey clouds—Pune rain, he muttered to himself, please be kind today. He didn’t carry a raincoat, and if it poured heavily, the first meeting would turn into a soggy mess.

But the skies had other plans. Within minutes, it started raining heavily. Soaking. Merciless. He was completely drenched. He quickly tucked his phone into his back pocket and kept riding, but with every drop, doubt started creeping in. Should I cancel and reschedule for tomorrow? he thought. But something inside him said no.

He pulled over under a small shelter and took out his phone. The screen was foggy but still worked. He tried calling her.

No answer.

A wave of anxiety rushed over him. Is she okay? Did she change her mind? Did something happen? A thousand questions flooded his mind. But he decided—no matter what, he would reach the café and wait. Even if he looked like a soaked mop, even if she laughed at him. He just wanted to make sure she was okay.

He finally reached the café, parked his bike, and stood there—wet, uncomfortable, and cold. He took out his phone again and called her. Still no answer. He messaged her, “Hey, are you okay?”

Just then, a scooty pulled up right in front of him. It was her.

She lifted her helmet and said from a distance, “Hi!”

Drenched like him. No raincoat. Prithvi rushed toward her, waving,and parked her bike “Come under the shelter, quickly!”

She laughed, “Can you please bring my mobile from under the seat?”

Now he understood why she didn’t answer his calls.

He opened the seat compartment, pulled out her phone and bag, and ran back to the shelter. She took off her helmet and smiled. They both stood there, dripping, laughing at how bizarre their first meeting was turning out to be.

Without thinking much, Prithvi took off his cotton jacket—soaked but still offering some cover. “Here, take this,” he said. She refused at first but then took it, trying to shake the water off before putting it on.

He extended his hand, “Hi, I’m Prithvi.”

She shook it, her hand freezing.

“You're shivering!” he exclaimed and immediately rushed into the café to get two hot coffees.

As he waited for the order, he watched her from the counter—trying to fit into his oversized jacket, brushing her half-wet hair behind her ear. The helmet had saved some of it. She looked at her phone and then glanced at him with a surprised smile.

 

He smiled back and walked over with the coffee.

“I couldn’t pick your calls, sorry,” she said, slightly embarrassed.

He shrugged, “I was a little worried, but now that you’re here—I guess it’s good you didn’t answer. Or else our first meeting wouldn’t have been this... adventurous.”

She laughed, sipping the coffee. “So, how was your day?”

He smiled, “Boring and exhausting. Until now.”

She raised an eyebrow, “Why? What changed?”

He looked at the cup, then at her. “This coffee.”

She rolled her eyes, “Funny.”

He chuckled, “What about your day?”

She smirked, “It was great. Until now.”

He faked offense, “So I’m boring?”

She shook her head and grinned, “No... coffee.”

They both burst out laughing.

“Smooth haan,” he said. “1–1. You learn fast.”

She replied, “If someone is good enough to teach.”

That was it. That moment. That effortless humor. That spark.

Prithvi smiled, realizing she was just as crazy as him.

He looked around and said, “The café guy won’t let us sit inside, and we’re standing here like we’ve been kicked out of our homes.”

She giggled, “It’s fine. I like it here.”

“You might just vanish from all that shivering,” he teased.

She grinned, “Then maybe I’ll stay only if there’s another coffee.”

Prithvi raised his cup in salute, “Deal.”

As the rain softened and the clouds began to clear, they both stood there—half wet, slightly cold, but incredibly warm in each other's presence.

Just then, her phone buzzed. She looked at it, and her face changed slightly. She looked at Prithvi with a smile, but there was something in her eyes—a pause, a moment of hesitation.

Prithvi noticed it but didn’t ask.

She took a step closer and softly said, “Before we go ahead... there’s something I should tell you.”

Prithvi looked at her, curious.

She whispered, “This isn’t my first arranged meeting… but it’s the first time I hoped someone would show up even in a storm.”

Prithvi blinked. “And?”

She smiled. “You did.”

He smiled warmly, “Well… I guess I don’t need a horoscope now.”

She laughed, “Still... a little crazy to show up like this.”

He leaned in with a smirk, “Says the girl who’s wearing my jacket and drinking my coffee.”

She laughed, “You were shivering more than me!”

“And you were colder than your coffee,” he shot back.

She narrowed her eyes playfully, “You're trouble.”

He grinned, “And you… are caffeine.”

She raised an eyebrow, “So you’re addicted already?”

“Let’s say I’m intrigued. And dangerously close to second coffee.”

She lifted her cup, “Then let’s make that 2–1. I’m winning.”

He laughed. “Fine. But be warned—I make terrible jokes when I lose.”

She replied, “I’ve noticed. Still here though.”

And in that rainy, half-sheltered corner of the city—two strangers, soaked in water but wrapped in warmth, met not with perfection, but with presence.

Maybe all love stories don’t start with sparkles and songs.
Sometimes, they begin with stubborn rain… and coffee.

 

-Suraj