INT. COTTAGE – AFTERNOON
A storm brews outside — thunder rolls in the distance.
Inside the cottage, it's warm… until—
MAHI (frustrated):
"Saif, where's the charger? My phone's dead."
SAIF (from kitchen):
"Try the drawer."
She opens it.
It's full of everything except a charger.
MAHI:
"There are onions in here."
SAIF:
"I organize by chaos."
She stomps over. Hair tied messily, eyebrows narrowed.
MAHI:
"This is the third time you've said that today."
SAIF (grinning):
"Consistency is key."
She glares.
He leans on the counter, still smirking.
MAHI (crossing arms):
"Why do you always smile when I'm mad?"
SAIF:
"Because you're cute when you're mad."
MAHI (mock shocked):
"Oh, so you think this is cute?"
SAIF:
"No. That—" (points to her wild bun) "—is adorable chaos."
She throws a dishtowel at him.
He ducks, laughs.
MAHI (half laughing, half serious):
"I'm seriously mad right now."
SAIF:
"Okay, let's settle this.
One game of rock-paper-scissors.
Winner gets the charger, loser washes dishes for a week."
MAHI (eyeing him):
"Deal."
They stand dramatically.
Round one.
Rock. Paper.
Mahi wins.
MAHI (grinning):
"Better start scrubbing, chef."
He mock bows.
"As you command, my queen."
---
INT. COTTAGE – LATER THAT NIGHT
A soft rain taps against the windows.
Mahi sits on the floor, scrolling through an old playlist.
Saif is washing dishes, humming a tune dramatically off-key.
She watches him.
MAHI (softly):
"Why do you let me win all the time?"
SAIF (without turning):
"Because I like seeing you smile.
And I hate seeing you cry."
She goes silent.
Then gets up, walks over, and flicks water on him.
MAHI:
"I'm not crying."
SAIF (turns, smiling):
"But you're smiling."
---
EXT. COTTAGE BALCONY – MIDNIGHT
Rain still falls.
They sit together, sharing a blanket, sipping coffee.
No more fighting.
Just closeness.
Breathing the same air.
Feeling something that doesn't need names.
MAHI (softly):
"I don't know who I used to fight with before…
But if this is what love feels like…
Maybe I don't want those memories back."
Saif stays quiet.
Because the truth is — he remembers everything.
But he won't ruin this.
Not this peace. Not this version of her.
He just replies:
SAIF:
"Then let's make new ones."
And under that rain…
That's exactly what they do.
The rain falls heavier now — soft sheets of silver mist.
Mahi and Saif are huddled under the porch, sharing a blanket, sipping their coffee.
A quiet smile sits on Mahi's lips.
MAHI:
"Ever danced in the rain?"
SAIF (amused):
"I don't dance. Gangsters don't do choreography."
MAHI (grinning):
"Even ex-gangsters have legs, Saif."
Before he can respond, she gets up, drops her blanket, and walks straight into the rain.
She turns around.
MAHI (arms out):
"Come on."
He watches her.
Soaked. Smiling. Twirling slowly.
And something inside him cracks open.
He walks down the steps.
SAIF (half-laughing):
"You're insane."
MAHI:
"You're late."
She grabs his hand — and drags him into the middle of the garden.
Their feet splash into muddy puddles.
The rain doesn't stop.
But neither do they.
---
EXT. GARDEN – CONTINUOUS
Mahi spins in circles, her hands spread out like wings.
Hair drenched. Clothes sticking. Eyes sparkling.
Saif watches her like she's made of something unreal.
She grabs both his hands now —
And for the first time in years, Saif lets go of control.
They don't dance well.
They bump shoulders.
They laugh too loud.
She steps on his feet.
He slips.
They fall.
Onto the wet grass.
Together.
MAHI (laughing):
"Look at us. Like filmy fools."
SAIF (lying beside her):
"Then let the world be our cinema."
They lie side by side, soaked.
Raindrops kiss their skin.
Thunder rumbles like music above them.
Mahi turns to look at him.
MAHI (softly):
"I feel… free."
SAIF (eyes locked with hers):
"You are."
They don't kiss.
But their fingers find each other again.
And for a moment —
with the world soaked in rain and stars —
that was enough.