CHAPTER 46: LATE AFTERNOON RAIN

Gara looked up at the sky, which was already darkening despite the sun not yet setting. Thick storm clouds were rolling down from the mountain.

He quickly gathered the herbs drying by the side of the house. The moment he stepped into the kitchen, the first drops of rain began to fall.

After closing the door behind him, he carefully stored the now-dried herbs in their proper place. Then he hurried to Wina’s room and his own to shut the windows.

Finally, he went to the front room to close the last window, where puddles had already started to form from the rainwater that had splashed in.

He stood by the door, eyes fixed on the mountain, anxiety churning in his chest.

The rain grew heavier, blurring his vision. Through the mist, he caught sight of silhouettes—figures running down from the mountain. Among them, he saw his mother.

Alongside Wina were Uncle Tirian and his wife, neighbors whose home stood some thirty meters away, hidden behind dense trees.

Wina stepped into the yard, and Gara let out a quiet breath of relief.

His eyes shifted to Uncle Tirian—who happened to cross paths with a tall, younger man. Gara recognized him instantly: Madha.

He strode forward, long legs hastening under the downpour as he tried to shield his head. He reached the house at the same time as Wina.

As they stepped under the hanging roof, Wina turned to the soaked young man. "Come inside."

"Yes, thank you, Auntie," Madha replied politely.

Gara stepped back from the door to let them in. Wina entered first, with Madha right behind her.

Unaware, Gara had been wearing a faint smile all this time, a smile that somehow warmed Madha’s cold, drenched body.

Wina headed straight to the kitchen while Madha took a seat on a wooden stool that had been pulled near the entrance so his soaked clothes wouldn’t drip on Gara’s things.

Gara handed him a cloth to dry himself and fetched the largest set of clothes he owned for him to wear.

As Madha peeled off his wet shirt, Gara caught sight of the cloth wraps covering wounds on his stomach and arms, now soaked.

Just as he was about to put on the fresh clothes, Gara stopped him.

"Wait! Let me change the bandages first."

He quickly prepared fresh cloth and knelt beside him.

With the windows and doors shut to keep the rain out—and the sky outside nearly pitch black—Gara had to lean in close, squinting to see clearly.

From that close distance, the faint scent of mint from him once again filled Madha’s senses.

This time, he didn’t draw in a deep breath. He simply let the scent linger in silence.

He checked the wound on his arm first—it had already healed, leaving only a faint scar.

There was no need to wrap it again. He dabbed a bit of dissolved herbal powder and left it to breathe.

Then he moved to the wound on his abdomen. It, too, had improved. He applied the same powder and gently tied a fresh cloth over it.

Before standing, Gara took a moment to make sure he was steady on his feet—he didn’t want a repeat of yesterday’s fall.

He touched Madha’s forehead and compared it to his own skin’s temperature. Slightly warmer, but it didn’t seem like a fever.

"All done. Go ahead and put the shirt on," he said softly, turning around to prepare an herbal brew to ward off chills.

Madha slipped into the fresh clothes, struggling to stay calm. The cool touch of Gara’s palm had sent a shiver across his entire body.

His gaze smoldered as it lingered on his back—deep, quiet, and intense.

As Gara finished storing the powdered herbs into a cloth pouch—something Madha would need later—he noticed rainwater had begun seeping into the house through the gap beneath the front door.

"We should move to my room. The water from outside will flood this area soon," he said, gesturing for them to leave the front room.

That part of the house was built slightly lower than the rest. There were no steps, but the difference in floor height was enough that water could collect quickly.

After making sure her papers, ingredients, and experiment tools were safe, Gara guided Madha toward his bedroom, each of them carrying their wooden stools.

There was no way he could let Madha sit on his bed with his pants still damp. And all of Gara’s trousers were too small for him—his shirt, though the biggest he had, already looked tight and stretched across his shoulders.

Inside the small bedroom, the limited space made Gara feel oddly stifled, even though there was still an arm’s length of distance between them.

The room felt warmer, though no fire had been lit.

Before Madha could say a word, Gara stood abruptly. "I’ll make tea."

Madha watched him leave with quick, tiny steps, a faint smile forming on his lips.

In the kitchen, Gara found Wina already changed into dry clothes, preparing three cups of herbal tea.

"Thanks, Mom," Gara said, taking the clay tray filled with the steaming drinks.

"Young people like you two should keep your bodies warm," Wina replied gently.

Gara smiled, fully understanding the kindness behind those words, and returned to his room with the tray.

"Here, drink up. My mother made it," he offered.

"I’ve really troubled Auntie Wina," Madha said, sounding genuinely apologetic.

Gara waved his hand in the air dismissively. "Come on, just drink."

The warm tea truly worked wonders. Even Gara, who hadn’t gotten wet, felt the heat spreading through her limbs.

His eyes widened as he watched Madha finish his cup in one long gulp. He couldn’t tell if he was trying to prove his manliness or if he was simply freezing to the bone.

Madha gave no explanation. He stood, placed the empty cup on the nightstand, and casually pulled his wooden stool closer—closing the gap between himself and the beautiful figure sharing the same room.

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