The Thunderstorm and the Pleasant Breeze (Short Story)
The Stuck Elevator
The wedding was a grand affair. Fairy lights sparkled across the lawn, guests bustled around in colorful attire, and the scent of fresh marigolds filled the air. But amidst the celebration, a storm was brewing—both outside and inside the hotel.
Rohit adjusted his camera bag and rushed toward the elevator, mentally cursing the bride’s mother, who had just asked him to capture “one last solo portrait” of the bride before the ceremony.
Rohit (muttering): “Arre yaar, solo portrait? Ladki already dulhan ban chuki hai, aur kitna solo chahiye?”
The elevator door was about to close when a frantic voice called out.
Roma (panting): “Hold the door!”
Rohit instinctively pressed the open button. A woman in a heavy red bridal lehenga stormed in, lifting the layers of her dress as if preparing for battle. Her face was hidden under a thick veil, but her energy was undeniable—stressed, chaotic, and probably moments away from a nervous breakdown.
As the elevator doors shut, there was a loud BZZZT! The lights flickered, and then—silence.
The elevator had stopped.
Panic Mode Activated
Roma: “Oh, no. NO! THIS CAN’T BE HAPPENING!” right now ,
Roma : Universe can’t curse me right now…
She slammed the buttons repeatedly. Rohit sighed, resting against the wall.
Rohit: “Perfect. Just what my life needed. A power cut. During a wedding. In an elevator. With a bridezilla.”
Bride (snapping): “Excuse me?! Did you just call me a bridezilla?”
Rohit: “Nope. Must have been the ghosts of weddings past.”
Roma: Is it not funny?
Roma (panicked): “This is serious! I have to get out of here! My wedding is in—” she checks her watch and gasps “Twenty minutes! My fiancé must be waiting! My family! The guests! The—”
A loud thunderclap echoed outside. The lights flickered again but didn’t return.
Roma: “Oh my god, I’m going to die in here.”
Rohit(sarcastically ): “Bit dramatic, aren’t we? It’s an elevator,we are not in a sinking ship.”
She glared at him angrily, then started hyperventilating.
Roma: “What if the air runs out? What if we starve? What if—”
Rohit: “Mis, we’ve been stuck for literally five minutes.”
Roma (hysterical): “That’s five minutes closer to my WEDDING DISASTER!”
She began pacing—or rather, wobbling—because of her heavy lehenga.
Roma: “I KNEW IT! This is a sign! The universe doesn’t want me to get married!”
Rohit: “Or maybe the universe is just bad at managing hotel electricity.”
Roma: “Shut up, you’re not helping me.”
She dramatically flopped against the wall. A pin drop of silence followed. Then—
Roma (whispering): “What if this is my sign? What if I shouldn’t marry Rohan?”
Wedding Confessions
Rohit raised an eyebrow. For a moment
Rohit(curiously): “Wait. You’re having second thoughts? Now? Ten minutes before the wedding?”
Roma : “I don’t know! I mean, I love Rohan… I think? But… ugh, what if marriage is a trap? What if I wake up one day and realize we have nothing in common except… shaadi ke laddu?”
Rohit: “Okay, real talk—are you freaking out because of the commitment, or because of this over-the-top wedding madness?”
She sighed, removing her veil. Beneath it was a tired but beautiful face, smeared with a little bit of kajal thanks to her mini breakdown.
Roma: “Both?”
Rohit sat down beside her.
Rohit: “Look, I’m a wedding photographer. I’ve seen brides cry, grooms faint, aunties fight over food, and one time, a baraat wala horse ran away mid-procession. Shaadi ka pressure sabko pagal bana deta hai. But the real question is—do you want the marriage? Not the wedding. The actual life together.”
She blinked, processing his words.
Roma: “I think I do… but I’m scared. I mean, Rohan is great, but… what if we change? What if we become those boring married couples who only talk about EMI and grocery lists?”
Rohit: “Well, if you’re worried about grocery lists, maybe just marry a guy who likes making them?”
She laughed—a genuine, stress-releasing laugh.
Roma: “You’re weirdly wise for a guy who was cursing solo portraits two minutes ago.”
Rohit (grinning): “Occupational hazard.”
Just then, the lights flickered back. The elevator jerked, and with a cheerful ding!, the doors opened.
The Pleasant Breeze
Outside, the rain had stopped. A cool breeze flowed through the hallway, bringing the fresh scent of wet earth.
The Roma stood up, adjusting her veil.same as rohit stood up as well.
Roma (smirking): “Guess the universe is back on my side.”
Rohit: “Or maybe it just wanted you to chill for five minutes.”
She smiled, stepping out. But then, just as she was about to walk toward the wedding hall, she turned back.
Roma(with a mischievous smile ): “Hey, Rohit?”
Rohit: “Hmm?”
Roma: “Do you think I’d make a good runaway bride?”
He nearly choked. For a moment
Rohit: “W-wait, WHAT? You’re seriously considering—”
But before he could finish, she winked and walked away.
Rohit stared after her, then shook his head, laughing. He picked up his camera and muttered,
Rohit: “Man, this wedding album is going to be legendary.”
The cool breeze rustled his hair, and for the first time that day, he didn’t feel annoyed. Just amused—and oddly hopeful.
After all, weddings weren’t the only place where new stories began.