Rainbow After the Rain

The late afternoon sun streamed through the garden, glinting off the dew-kissed flowers. Aryan walked slowly along the familiar path, holding a bouquet of wildflowers—the kind Meera had always loved. His heart ached as he watched her from a distance. She was sitting on the old wooden bench, staring at the fluttering butterflies, her gaze soft yet lost.

Years ago, she was the girl who had stolen his heart. He had proposed to her in their teenage years with trembling hands and an awkward smile. She had said yes, and they had promised to grow old together. They did, but life had other plans.

Now, Meera’s memories came and went like fleeting clouds. Dementia had claimed the vibrant girl he once knew, leaving behind only fragments of the woman who had been his wife for decades. Some days, she remembered him as the boy who gave her roses by the school gate; other days, she looked at him as if he were a stranger.

Taking a deep breath, Aryan walked toward her. “Meera,” he said softly, extending the bouquet.

She looked up, her eyes curious but unsure. “Do I… know you?”

Aryan’s heart twisted, but he smiled. “Yes, love. I’m Aryan. The boy who once stood under the rain, waiting for you to say yes. And the man who has loved you every single day since.”

Meera tilted her head, a shadow of confusion flickering in her eyes. She took the flowers and studied them, a faint smile curling her lips. “You speak as if we’ve known each other forever.”

“We have,” Aryan whispered, sitting beside her. “You were my first love and my last. You’re my wife, Meera.”

Her brows furrowed as if she were trying to piece together a puzzle. “Your wife?” she repeated softly.

Aryan nodded, tears welling in his eyes. “We built a life together. We laughed, we cried, we grew old… but we were always together.”

For a moment, silence wrapped around them like a warm blanket. Then, as if something stirred deep inside her, Meera’s eyes softened. “You came… like a rainbow after the rain,” she murmured. “But you’re late… I don’t have much time left to remember all this. Why didn’t you tell me sooner?”

Aryan’s voice broke. “I’ve been telling you all my life. You just… forget. But I’ll keep telling you, every single day, for as long as I’m breathing.”

A tear slipped down Meera’s cheek as she placed her trembling hand over his. “Even if I forget everything, promise me you won’t forget us.”

“Never,” Aryan whispered, pulling her into a gentle embrace.

The garden swayed with the evening breeze, and for one precious moment, Meera rested her head on his shoulder as if time had rolled back, and they were those two carefree teenagers again—forever in love, beneath a sky painted with rainbows.

As Aryan prepared to leave, Meera’s voice trembled softly, “Aryan…”

He froze. It was the first time in years she had spoken his name. Tears filled his eyes as he turned back.

“Don’t… stop bringing me flowers,” she whispered with a faint, knowing smile.

And just like that, for one fleeting heartbeat, she remembered everything.