Aanya Rhodes Part 1: First Rain It started with the sound of rain. Not the polite kind that kissed rooftops and trickled down windowpanes, but the insistent, wild kind that arrived with thunder in its bones and an unspoken promise of upheaval. The kind of rain that didn’t ask before entering your life — it just came. Naina Joshi leaned against the polished wood of the café counter, her fingers curled around a half-empty ceramic mug, the cinnamon dust long settled. Outside, the street shimmered under the weight of the downpour. Mist swirled like secrets across the glass, blurring the…