Beneath The Storm (Completed)

Chapter-12 Raindrops & Reflections

Inaara sat on the balcony, legs pressed to her chest, her head resting on her knees as the moisture in the air kissed her skin.

It was calm, a stillness that somehow soothed her troubled heart. She closed her eyes, taking in the faint scent of rain in the distance.

Suddenly, a soft patter broke the silence, a single raindrop landing gently on the balcony railing.

She lifted her head slightly, her lips curving into a small, knowing smile.

Rain.

Her favorite companion. She stretched her hand out, letting the cool droplets fall on her palm. There was a quiet joy, a sense of being understood by something as simple and profound as the rain.

As the gentle shower turned into a steady downpour, Inaara slowly stood, leaving the cocoon of her balcony corner.

She stepped out into the rain, raising her face toward the sky, feeling the coolness of the droplets sliding down her cheeks like forgotten tears.

With a deep breath, she opened her arms wide, embracing the rain, the wetness soaking into her clothes and hair, but she didn’t care.

The rain spoke to her. It always had. There was something freeing about it—its untamed rhythm, its cleansing embrace.

For a moment, she forgot the suffocating expectations, the rigid boundaries of her new life, and just allowed herself to be.

She spun lightly, her arms still outstretched, feeling the world blur in the rain’s song. A smile, pure and unfiltered, bloomed on her lips.

Atharv watched her from his study leaning against the glass wall of the study with his arms crossed. His sharp eyes caught her every move, and his brows furrowed in irritation.

To him, it was childish—this dancing in the rain, this fleeting moment of abandon. His wife, the daughter-in-law of the Rajvansh family, behaving like an irresponsible girl.

When she finally came inside, drenched, yet glowing with the peace the rain had given her, see atharv is sitting on the bed.
Atharv couldn’t hold back. His voice was cold, the words stinging like the rain now forgotten outside.

"I thought you were mature, Inaara," he said, eyes narrowed. "But you're out there dancing in the rain like a child. First sneaking out, and now this? You think acting like a teenager will solve anything? What kind of woman, what kind of daughter-in-law, behaves like this?"

Inaara stopped mid-step, her wet hair clinging to her face, droplets still falling from her fingertips.

She turned toward him, her gaze soft yet unwavering. There was no anger in her eyes, only calm—a strength that came not from defiance but from a deep place within her.

She took a slow breath, steadying herself before she spoke.

"I was under the impression," she began quietly, her voice gentle but firm, "that maturity wasn’t about killing every joy in life, Atharv. You see childishness in dancing in the rain, but to me, it’s something else. It's... connection. With the world, with the moment, with life. The rain, it cleanses, it heals, it reminds me that I’m still alive—despite everything."