WHISPERS IN THE RAIN

I. The Midnight Lift

“Lift? Need a lift?”

Summit pulled his car to the curb and rolled down the window. “Can I help you?”

The girl standing under the pale amber streetlamp looked up, her hands tucked deep into the pockets of her jacket. “I need a lift,” she murmured.

Summit unlocked the passenger door. She slipped inside, letting out a soft breath against the chilly air. “Thank you.”

“You’re welcome,” he said, offering a warm, reassuring smile. “Where can I drop you?”

“The Bishalnagar Apartments.”

“Sure thing.”

The fifteen-minute drive passed in complete silence. Summit kept his eyes fixed firmly on the road. Shy by nature, he had rarely spoken to women and felt an awkward, unfamiliar flutter in his chest whenever he tried to strike up a conversation with strangers. Beside him, she simply stared out the window at the passing city lights.

When they arrived at the apartment complex, she stepped out onto the pavement. “Thank you, again.”

“My pleasure. Good night.”

“Good night.”

The following evening at 11:30 PM, Summit was driving home from the newsroom. As a local investigative journalist, late shifts were normal for him. Passing the same stretch of road, he spotted her again—standing under the exact same streetlight, looking for a ride.

He pulled over and rolled down the window. “Can I help you?”

She offered a gentle smile. “Lift.”

Once inside, the quiet returned, but the silence felt less tense this time. They glanced at each other and shared a brief, knowing smile. As the familiar gates of her apartment complex came into view, Summit gathered his courage.

“Can I know your name?”

“Simran,” she said softly. “And yours?”

“Summit. By the way... where do you work? Don't get me wrong—I just noticed I picked you up at the exact same spot and time yesterday.”

Simran’s smile vanished. She looked away, staring straight ahead into the dark street.

Noticing her sudden quietness, Summit immediately felt a wave of guilt. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have asked.”

The car came to a stop in front of her block.

“Thank you, again,” she whispered, stepping out without addressing his question.

“My pleasure. Good night.”

This late-night routine continued for a week. Every night at 11:30 PM, Summit found her at the same corner, and every night he brought her home.

On the seventh night, as they sat outside her building, Simran broke the silence.

“Last week, when you asked about my job... I didn’t answer because I was afraid to tell you the truth.”

Summit turned to look at her. “What truth?”

“I’m a dancer at a local bar.”

Summit pulled the handbrake and turned off the engine. The cabin fell quiet. He looked into her eyes, finding no deceit—only vulnerability. Moved by a sudden, overwhelming warmth, he leaned in closer. She met him halfway. But just as their lips were about to touch, a heavy downpour suddenly slammed against the windshield. The sharp crack of thunder snapped them back to reality.

Simran pulled back quickly, her breath hitching. “I’m sorry.”

They both sat in uncomfortable silence, looking out at the rain-streaked glass.

“I didn’t want to tell you,” she said quietly, her voice trembling. “People judge bar dancers terribly. I loved to dance, but I never imagined I’d end up in a place like that. I hated it, but I had no other choice to survive. I was afraid you would look at me differently.”

Summit didn't press her for details. He simply placed a gentle hand over hers, letting the quiet reassurance speak for him, before watching her walk safely to her door.

Over the next three months, their nightly rides turned into shared days, quiet coffee dates, and deep affection. For the first time in his life, Summit fell head over heels in love.

II. Unspoken Secrets

It was a clear, pleasant afternoon when Summit decided to visit her. He walked up the stairs to her flat and knocked on the door, finding it unlocked.

“Simran? Simran?”

No answer. He checked the quiet living room, the small kitchen, and the bedroom, but the apartment was empty. Just as he pulled out his phone to call her, he heard the faint sound of running water coming from the bathroom. Reassured, he sat on the couch, picking up a copy of WAVE magazine from the coffee table to pass the time.

Ten minutes later, the bathroom door opened. Simran walked into the living room and froze, her face draining of color when she saw him.

“Summit? You... you’re here?”

He stood up from the sofa, amused by her reaction. “Why do you look so shocked? Aren’t you happy to see me?”

She quickly collected herself, forcing a polite, awkward smile. “Of course I am. It’s just... do you have some urgent work with me?”

Summit’s expression turned serious. He stepped closer, looking straight into her eyes. “I know the truth about you.”

Simran’s breath caught in her throat. Fear flashed across her face. “What... what truth?”

He walked over, placing both hands gently on her shoulders. Her heart hammered against her ribs as she stared up at him, terrified of what he was about to say.

“The truth is...” he paused dramatically, watching her anxious expression, “...that I love you, and you love me.”

Simran let out a long, shaky breath as Summit burst into laughter.

“You should have seen your face!” he chuckled, shaking his head. “That was the most terrified look I’ve ever seen. What on earth were you scared of?”

She shoved his arm, her fear turning into annoyance. “That wasn't funny, Summit! You genuinely scared me. Did you really come all the way here just to make a silly joke?”

“Actually, no,” Summit said, his voice softening as he smiled warmly. “I have wonderful news.”

“What news?”

“I talked to my parents about us. They want to meet you.”

Simran blinked, stunned. “Meet me? For what?”

“For our marriage, of course.”

“Marriage?” she repeated, her voice barely a whisper.

“Why do you sound so shocked again?” Summit smiled, wrapping his arms around her. “Aren't you excited to marry me?”

Simran swallowed hard. She forced a smile, nodded slowly, and buried her face against his chest as they embraced.

III. The Vanishing Act

Days turned into a week, and Simran vanished.

Her phone went straight to voicemail, and her apartment remained dark and silent. Summit visited her building every evening after work, knocking until his knuckles throbbed, but nobody answered.

“Maybe she went away for a short trip,” he thought to himself, trying to suppress the growing knot of anxiety in his stomach. “Her birthday is in two days. I’ll come back then and surprise her.”

Two days later, Summit arrived at her building carrying a bouquet of red roses and a wrapped gift box. But when he reached her landing, he found a heavy padlock hanging from the door latch.

Desperate, he knocked on the door across the hallway.

An elderly man opened it, peering through the gap. “Can I help you, young man?”

“Sir, I’m looking for Simran—the girl who lives in the flat opposite yours. Do you know where she went? I’ve been trying to reach her for ten days.”

The old man frowned, looking at Summit with confusion. “Simran? Nobody lives in that flat, son. It’s been vacant for over two years.”

Summit’s heart sank. “That’s impossible, sir! I’ve been coming here almost every day for months. She lives right there!”

“Listen to me, young man,” the old man said firmly. “I’ve lived in this building for five years. Ask anyone on this floor. That apartment has been locked empty since the last tenants moved out.”

Refusing to believe it, Summit ran down the stairs, jumped into his car, and sped toward the dance bar where she used to work.

He managed to track down the bar manager in his back office. When Summit showed him a picture of Simran on his phone, the manager’s face darkened. He let out a long sigh and shook his head.

“You’re asking about Simran?” the manager said quietly. “Son... Simran died a year ago in a fatal car accident. You’re chasing a ghost.”

IV. The Midnight Truth

It was 11:30 PM.

Summit stood alone on the open terrace of his apartment building, a lit cigarette held loosely between his fingers. The night wind whipped against his jacket, but he barely felt the cold. His mind was spinning in an impossible storm of grief, disbelief, and horror.

“Summit.”

He spun around instantly. The soft, familiar voice echoed across the quiet terrace.

Simran was standing near the doorway, illuminated by the dim moonlight. She looked as delicate and beautiful as ever, but her eyes were filled with profound sorrow. She stepped forward, hovering silently above the concrete floor.

“Simran...” Summit choked out, taking an involuntary step back.

“You must be terrified,” she whispered, her voice carrying a haunting chill. “You’re wondering why I never told you... why I let you fall in love with a ghost.”

Summit stared at her, tears welling in his eyes. He slowly nodded. “Why? Why did you come into my life? Why hide all of this from me?”

Simran looked up at the night sky, a single tear slipping down her pale cheek.

“I started working at the dance bar in late 2012,” she began softly. “I was desperate for money, but I tried so hard to keep my dignity. Different men came and went every night, treating us like objects. There were four men in particular who kept harassing me, wanting more than just a dance. I rejected them every single time.”

She paused, her body trembling slightly.

“On December 31st, 2012, at 11:30 PM... I finished my shift. As I walked out onto the street, those four drunk men ambushed me. They forced me into their car and...”

Simran covered her face, sobbing silently. The agonizing weight of her unfinished sentence hung heavy in the midnight air.

“They assaulted me,” she choked out. “And then they threw me out of the moving car onto the road... leaving me to bleed to death in the dark. Nobody stopped to help me.”

Summit felt a cold shudder run down his spine as the horror of her words settled in.

“That spot where you first picked me up,” Simran continued, looking back at him, “that’s where they dropped my body. And those four men... you remember the major accident you reported on a few months ago? The four men who died when their car crashed into a concrete barrier?”

Summit’s eyes widened in realization. As an investigative journalist, he had covered that hit-and-run story extensively. “It was... you?”

“Yes,” she said quietly. “I made myself visible only to them while they were driving at high speed. They panicked, lost control, and crashed.”

She took a step closer, her form growing faint at the edges.

“I noticed you because you were asking questions and investigating their accident. That’s how I first found you. But after meeting you... after spending those late nights in your car... everything changed. You showed me genuine respect, kindness, and love—things I thought I would never feel again. For those three months, I felt alive.”

Her figure began to glow softly under the moonlight, gradually dissolving into translucent light.

“When you mentioned marriage, the reality hit me. I knew I couldn't give you a future. I tried to run away, but I couldn't leave without giving you the truth. Please... forgive me, Summit. I love you. If there is a next life, I pray I can find you again under better circumstances.”

“Simran, wait!” Summit cried out, reaching his arm forward.

But her smile faded into the night air, and within seconds, she vanished entirely.

Summit stood alone on the empty terrace. The quiet wind swept across the roof, leaving him surrounded by silence, holding onto the memory of a love that belonged to another world.