The world outside dissolved into a symphony of heavy rain and rolling thunder, each clap of the clouds mirroring the rising anticipation within me. On our bed, I’d orchestrated a sanctuary: flickering candlelight danced with the soft glow of romantic music, casting an intimate spell over the room. Fresh from a bath, a sudden whim had led me to drape myself in a white saree, a rare indulgence, inspired by the beauty of the stormy evening.

The scene was perfect—the downpour, the distant rumbles, the melancholic strains of music, the soft, shifting shadows. It was all so utterly, undeniably romantic. Drawn by the tempest's allure, I drifted towards the window, my gaze lost in the blurred world beyond. Suddenly, a gust of wind sent a cascade of rain directly towards me, soaking the delicate fabric of my saree. A surprised gasp escaped my lips, and I instinctively retreated, fearing the relentless onslaught would invade our haven. I quickly pulled the window shut, and as I turned back into the room, my breath hitched, my body freezing in place.