Beneath the same sky

After that message, something changed—not in an explosive, dramatic way, but like the slow unfolding of a flower, unnoticed at first, yet impossible to ignore once you see it.

Their conversations grew longer, spilling over from quick texts into late-night calls. Sometimes they talked about nothing—movies, books, random memories from childhood. Other times, the silence between them said more than words ever could.

Izra found herself looking forward to Ayaan’s messages, her heart reacting in ways she hadn’t felt in years. It was unsettling. She had built her life on control, on clear boundaries. But Ayaan blurred the lines she thought were set in stone.

One Rainy Evening in Karachi

Izra sat by her apartment window, watching raindrops race down the glass. She wasn’t fond of rainy days—they always made her feel restless. Her phone vibrated, pulling her from her thoughts.

Ayaan: I bet you’re frowning at the rain right now.

A small smile tugged at her lips despite herself.

Izra: How do you know?

Ayaan: Because I remember. You always hated it when it rained. Said it made the world feel too heavy.

She stared at his message, warmth blooming in her chest. No one remembered things like that—not even people she’d known for years. But Ayaan did.

After a pause, she replied:

Izra: Maybe it’s not the rain I hate. Maybe it’s just the memories that come with it.

Ayaan: Memories aren’t always bad. Some remind you of what your heart never forgot.

She didn’t know how to respond to that. Her heart was beating faster, and she hated that it was. So she changed the subject, asking about his studies, his work—anything to shift the focus.

But Ayaan’s words lingered, echoing louder in the silence of her room.

A Week Later

They hadn’t spoken much after that night. Izra told herself it was because she was busy, but deep down, she knew she was running—from feelings she wasn’t ready to face.

Then one evening, her phone buzzed again.

Ayaan: Can we meet? Just for coffee. No expectations. I just… miss talking to you in person.

Izra stared at the message, her heart in a tug-of-war between caution and curiosity. She hesitated, then typed:

Izra: Okay. Tomorrow at 5?

The Coffee Shop

The next day, Izra arrived early, her heart annoyingly restless. She told herself it was just coffee. Just a conversation.

But when Ayaan walked in, wearing a simple white shirt with sleeves rolled up, his easy smile lighting up as soon as he saw her—she knew it wasn’t just anything.

They talked for hours, laughter blending with soft glances, pauses filled with unsaid words. Ayaan listened like no one else did, his gaze steady, as if her words mattered more than anything in the world.

As they stood to leave, Ayaan hesitated. “Izra… can I be honest with you?”

Her heart raced. “Sure.”

He took a breath, his eyes holding hers. “I’ve liked you for as long as I can remember. Maybe it was a childhood crush at first, but it never went away. I just… didn’t know how to tell you until now.”

Izra’s heart felt like it had forgotten how to beat. She opened her mouth to respond, but no words came.

So instead, she just whispered, “I don’t know what to say.”

Ayaan smiled softly. “You don’t have to say anything. I just needed you to know.”

And with that, he walked away—leaving Izra standing there, her heart tangled in emotions she wasn’t ready to untangle.