Monsoonlove Stories

Every time it rains in Chennai, he kills. Every time he kills, he leaves jasmine soaked in blood. To catch the monster, she'll have to trust the devil who still calls her "baby" in the dark. #JasmineInTheRain | Dark romance × Serial killer thriller | Exes. Rain. Blood. #1 Tamilthrillers #1 Indianthrillers

This imaginative short story is all about a monsoon love.

Asha, a young woman new to Mumbai, discovers a mysterious letter filled with longing and regret that stirs something deep within her. On a rainy evening, she meets Arjun, a quiet and haunted man who shares her love for poetry. As their friendship grows, Asha learns about the shadows in Arjun's past, and together they navigate loss, hope, and the possibility of healing under the city's ever-flickering lights.

Visually impaired Aria finds her true love in Om.

A closeted 90s hindu boy finds his heart flutter in monsoon mist and mandir bells.

a college girl named Andy accidentally bumps into neol and that is where their story starts

A gentle drizzle. A shared glance. And one unforgettable kiss under the rain... What began as a chance meeting turned into a moment that changed everything. Was it love - or just the magic of the rain?

The monsoon arrived like a scorned lover-violent, unannounced, drenching Mumbai. Marine Drive hissed, the Arabian Sea clawing at the city. Somewhere between Kurla's chaos and Bandra's skyline, fate waited. Priya Sharma, in a neon-yellow raincoat, dashed through puddles, balancing kande pohe and chai, teasing a vendor for unpaid snacks. Across the city, Arjun Rathod, trapped in his forty-third-floor office, shut his laptop against the ghost of his father. Investors could wait. They collided at a flooded crosswalk. Priya's chai splattered Arjun's crisp shirt; his laptop bag soaked in rain. "Are you mad?" he snapped. She grinned. "Mad? Haan. But you-" she eyed his laptop, wrinkling her nose "-look like you've never tasted sunshine." Arjun scowled. "That laptop costs more than your existence." Unfazed, she shoved soggy kande pohe into his hands. "Compensation. Spicy enough to melt that face." And then, she vanished. Nearby, a street kid giggled. "Bhaiyya, you look like a Balaji serial villain." Arjun didn't smile. His laptop was dead-like the part of him that once believed in monsoons, miracles, and mad girls in yellow raincoats. Somewhere in Colaba, Priya pinned a sketch to her wall: a brooding man with storm-cloud eyes, drowned in chai. She titled it Grumpy vs. Monsoon: Round 1.

It wasn't a dream. Not quite. But it wasn't real either, not in the way pain usually is. He was standing across the street, under a flickering lamp, hair damp from the rain. His hands were in his pockets, head tilted slightly, like he'd been waiting. Like he always waited. For her. Mahveen didn't move. Didn't breathe. Even in this half-made memory, she knew what came next. The look. The ache. The silence. That almost-smile of his that never reached his eyes. "You came," she whispered, though no sound left her mouth. Zayyan blinked. Once. Twice. He opened his mouth, but no words came. They never did. The streetlight dimmed. His figure blurred. And just like that - he was gone. Again. She woke up, gasping quietly, hand clutching the bracelet on her wrist like it could hold him in place. It didn't. He was always just out of reach. That's the thing about reveries. They feel like home until you open your eyes.

She was his melody; he was her silence. Two souls once bound by music drift apart when fame, distance, and unsaid words drown their love. Years later, as the monsoon returns, so do the memories - unfinished lyrics, half-taken photos, and a love that never really stopped breathing. In the city that first brought them together, Aarohi and Ishaan meet again - not as lovers, but as strangers who still remember the sound of each other's heartbeat. The rain listens. The wind carries their song. But will love find its way again... or fade like the last note of a forgotten tune?

On a stormy monsoon evening in Delhi, Aarav Sharma-an ordinary, introverted college boy-hurries home through the rain, only to find Meera Iyer, the "angel" of his college and next-door neighbor, stranded without an umbrella. Despite rarely speaking to her before, Aarav offers to share his. Under the tiny umbrella, a quiet yet delicate moment unfolds-one that sparks the beginning of a bond neither of them expected.

some of amateur poems of mine describing RAINY SEASON feel ⋆.˚ ᡣ𐭩

~He wrote letters to a stranger who didn't exist. She found one... and couldn't stop reading. Two souls meet through words left on a forgotten park bench - never seeing each other, yet falling deeper with every letter. Until one rainy evening changes everything. 🌧️💫

A slow-burn Indian love story blooming under the Konkan rains When Ayan Malhotra, a brooding photographer from Delhi, escapes to a quiet coastal village in Konkan, all he wants is silence-far from the heartbreak he left behind. But silence is not what he finds. He meets Meera Joshi-a quiet, mysterious botanist who speaks more to her plants than to people. With jasmine in her hair and secrets in her eyes, she becomes the calm in his storm and the storm in his calm. They are opposites in every way. She hides; he observes. She guards her heart; he wears his pain like a second skin. But when the monsoons arrive, and their worlds start to blur, they begin to feel something neither expected-connection. In the rhythm of falling rain, whispered glances, and unspoken emotions, a love story begins to take root. But will it survive when the skies clear and real life returns?