Stranded in Bangkok – Part 1: One Room Left

The monsoon hit Bangkok at four in the afternoon, as if someone had tipped the sky over the city. By five, Sara's taxi was stuck in a river of water that had once been Sukhumvit Road. By six, she was dripping onto the marble floor of a hotel lobby with a soggy backpack and a flight cancellation email in her hand.

"Fully booked," said the young receptionist, apologetic. "Except one room."

"Thank God," said Sara.

"It's a suite," said a man's voice behind her. "With one bed."

She turned. He was tall, with damp dark hair, a navy shirt plastered to his shoulders and a suitcase at his feet. He was smiling, but his eyes looked exhausted.

"Arjun," he said. "I'm also stranded. My flight to Mumbai was cancelled too. I've been trying to get the last room for twenty minutes."

"You got there second," said Sara.

"I'm not a good competitor," said Arjun. "I'm a good sleeper, though. I'll take the sofa."

The receptionist looked from one to the other. "It's a very big sofa," she said helpfully.

The suite was on the twelfth floor. It had floor-to-ceiling windows, a view of the storm over the river, and a king-sized bed made up with white linen. Sara stood in the doorway, dripping, and stared at it.

"I'm sorry," said Arjun, very quietly. "I'll sleep on the sofa. I promise I won't snore."

"You don't look like a snorer."

"That's what everyone says before the first night."

She laughed, a short, startled sound, and walked into the room. The lightning outside lit up the city in silver flashes. The rain hammered the glass.

"We'll both take a shower," Sara said. "Then we'll order food and watch the storm. And you'll sleep on the bed, Arjun, because you're clearly too tall for that sofa."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure," said Sara. "On one condition."

"Name it."

"We talk. Properly. Not about the weather." She looked at him, serious, a little nervous. "I've been running from a lot of things this year. I'd like to stop for one night."

Arjun's smile softened. "Then let's stop," he said. "Together."

They ate dinner on the floor by the window with the rain drumming outside, cold rice and spicy noodles from a takeaway box, and talked until the storm had passed over the river. He told her about his grandmother's spice shop in Jaipur. She told him about the job she had quit in London, and why. He didn't interrupt, and he didn't pity her. He just asked the right question at the right time.

When the lightning finally faded, the room was quiet. Only the rain, soft now, against the glass.

"Sara," said Arjun, sitting across from her. "I'm going to sleep on the sofa now. But before I do, can I ask you something?"

"Yes."

"Would you like me to stay in the bed? Just to sleep, so you don't have to be alone with the storm?"

Her heart was thumping. She looked at him, really looked: the wet hair drying in messy curls, the tired kindness, the careful distance he was keeping.

"Yes," she said. "Just sleep. Green?"

"Green," said Arjun, and smiled.