SPLASH

 The first heavy drops of monsoon rain splattered against the café window, blurring the bustling street scene outside. Inside, she clutched her hot tea, the steam curling around her face like a comforting whisper. Across the table, he sat still, his gaze fixed on the storm.

"Looks like the real monsoon's finally here," she said, her voice barely a murmur over the drumming rain.

"Yeah," he replied, his eyes distant. "Guess the heat's finally broken."

She looked at him. His eyes, slyly trying to meet hers, as the aroma of the tea,  stormed their senses. Hairline lined with tiny beads of sweat, his hand moved towards her in an affectionate way. She leaned forward, swept her fingers across his forehead, straightening the few stray curls clinging to his brows. 

The past few months had been scorching.  Work pressure heightened, quelling their solitary times. With the petrichor playing Cupid, the temperature felt stifling between them.

Her touch surged in him, a panoply of emotions. Suddenly, a mischievous glint appeared in his eyes. "You know, sweetheart," he said, "studies say people tend to crave fresh scents during the monsoon."

She raised an eyebrow. "Is that so?"

"Apparently," he continued, a slight smile playing on his lips, "it's a way to feel invigorated, like a fresh start."

A playful smile tugged at her lips. "Well, then," she said, leaning closer, "what kind of fresh scent do you think I need right now?"

His breath hitched. The air between them crackled with a sudden energy. He leaned in too, the earthy scent of petrichor, the smell of the first rain on dry ground, filling his senses.

"The scent of…" he began, his voice dropping to a husky whisper, "the person who makes me feel like a fresh start every single day."

The café door chimed as someone entered, shattering the intimate moment. She blushed, a warm feeling blossoming in her chest. But as the rain continued its rhythmic symphony outside, she knew this was just the beginning of their own monsoon romance. 

She said, “ Let’s go on a long drive “, with a flutter in her stomach. 

His smile bloomed. “Anything anytime” , he said , his voice low, “specially when the monsoon decides to bring us together “. 

She shook her head, a blush creeping up her neck.

He pulled out the car key, a renewed zest gushed in him. Clutching her waist fondly, he hurried out to the car, unmindful of the rains that had now intensified.