The rain poured steadily, drumming on the worn streets of the city. Every night, as soon as the first drops fell, Rajiv would step onto his small, rusty balcony, drawn by the soothing rhythm. For him, the rain was a rare escape from his dull, repetitive life—a comforting ritual. The air smelled of wet concrete, and the occasional splash of cars passing through puddles added to the rain’s music.
Rajiv, in his early thirties, was a slim, unremarkable man with messy hair and a slightly scruffy face that showed the toll of sleepless nights and loneliness. His tiny apartment was plain, with no decorations, much like the crumbling building he lived in. Across the street stood another old structure, its cracked, gray walls reflecting the lifelessness of the neighborhood.
One night, as he leaned on the railing, letting the rain calm his thoughts, he saw her. A soft light flickered on in a window on the second floor of the opposite building. Framed by the window stood a woman. Rajiv blinked, surprised. She was stunning—tall and elegant, with long black hair flowing over her shoulders. Her pale skin seemed to glow in the dim light, and her dark eyes looked deep and piercing. She wore a simple pink dress, old-fashioned but graceful.
For a moment, she gazed out into the rain, lost in thought. Then, as if sensing his stare, she turned her head toward him. Their eyes met, and Rajiv felt an odd connection he couldn’t explain. Unsure of what to do, he waved at her hesitantly. To his surprise, she smiled softly and raised her hand in return.
From that night on, she became part of his routine. Whenever it rained, she was there, standing by the window, watching him. Their silent exchanges grew familiar, comforting. But something about her seemed strange. She was always there, in the same spot, with the same distant expression. She never opened the window or stepped outside. She was as constant as the rain, and Rajiv’s curiosity about her grew with each passing night.
Weeks went by, and Rajiv became obsessed. Whenever the sky darkened, he eagerly stepped onto his balcony, waiting for her. And she never failed to appear, almost as if the rain summoned her. One night, their usual silent exchange took an unexpected turn. She gestured toward the door of her building, inviting him over.
Rajiv’s heart raced. The rain seemed louder, the wind fiercer, as if urging him forward. He hesitated, a shiver running down his spine, but the pull was too strong to resist. Grabbing his jacket, he rushed down the stairs and crossed the street, splashing through puddles. The building loomed before him, its walls cracked, its paint peeling. It looked abandoned.
He knocked on the door of her apartment, his pulse quickening. No one answered. He knocked again, louder this time. Still nothing. Just as he was about to leave, an old woman’s voice startled him.
“Are you looking for someone?”
Rajiv turned to see a frail old woman in the dim hallway. Her hunched frame and wrinkled face gave her an eerie appearance.
“Yes,” he said, trying to steady his voice. “The woman in the window. I’ve seen her every night during the rain. She invited me over.”
The old woman’s eyes widened. “You’ve seen Mayuri?”
Rajiv nodded, but the look on her face sent a chill down his spine.
“Mayuri died years ago,” the woman said softly, her voice trembling with sadness. “The woman you’ve seen… she took her own life. She jumped from that very window five years ago, during a storm just like this.”
Rajiv froze, a wave of cold fear washing over him. “That’s not possible. I’ve seen her. She smiled at me. She waved.”
The old woman gave him a sorrowful look. “Others have said the same. She appears when it rains, still waiting for something… or someone. Mayuri was troubled. She couldn’t bear the pain of her life. Her spirit never left. She’s trapped, caught between worlds.”
Rajiv stumbled back, his mind reeling. The woman he had been watching—who had smiled and waved—was no longer alive? The realization hit him like a punch to the chest. He hurried out of the building, the rain now feeling icy against his skin.
Back in his apartment, Rajiv ran to the balcony, his eyes darting to her window. It was dark and empty. He stared, hoping to see her, but she was gone.
As he turned away, a faint glow caught his eye. He looked back.
There she was again, standing by the window. Her pale face pressed against the glass, her eyes filled with a sadness he hadn’t noticed before. She raised her hand as she always did, but this time, the gesture felt more like a plea than a greeting.
Rajiv backed away, his hands trembling. He realized she wasn’t waiting for him. She was waiting to be free.
The rain poured on, the storm raging outside, but inside Rajiv felt a deep, unsettling calm.
The next night, when the rain came, Rajiv stayed inside. He never looked at the window again.
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