CHAPTER TWO
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just the rain and the shadows and the streetlamp buzzing above the empty sidewalk. And yet, as i finally made it to my door, that stranger in the rain stayed with me.
Not his face. Not his name.
Just the way he stood there, like he wasn't afraid of getting wet.
I kicked the door shut behind me, the satisfying "thud" echoing through my too-quiet apartment. The rain hadn't stopped--it pounded against the windows like it had a personal grudge against me. I dropped the soaked snack bag on the kitchen counter and peeled off my clothes, leaving a trail of regret across the floor.
After a hot shower that felt like salvation. I collapsed onto my bed in an oversized t-shirt and fuzzy socks, letting the hum of the rain lull me. My thoughts tried to creep back to him--the guy in the storm--but I pushed them away. I had more important things to worry about. Like not dying of hypothermia.
I fell asleep with damp hair and chocolate on my nightstand, hoping the night would erase whatever weirdness had just unfolded.
Spoiler: it didn't.
The next morning came wrapped in sunshine like the city was pretending it hadn't just drowned me twelve hours ago. I got up with a groan, stretched, and tied my hair up in a messy bun before dragging myself to the kitchen.
Chores. Laundry. Dishes. Organizing the cluttered corner I kept promising to " get to eventually". I moved like a robot thought it all, humming to myself and sipping lukewarm tea when--bam-- there he was again. Not literally, thank God. But in my mind. standing in the rain like a scene from a dream I didn't mean to have.
"Ugh", I muttered, tossing a shirt into the laundry basket a little too aggressively. That was when my phone rang.
I glanced at the screen. Tessa. My best friend, professional oversharer, and walking chaos in a crop top.
I swiped to answer. " Hey".
" Hey you!" she chirped. " You sound like someone stepped on your soul. What happened?"
I plopped onto the couch. " Nothing"
"Liar"
I sighed. "Okay fine, something weird happened last night"
She gasped. "Did someone break into your apartment? Do I need to fight someone?.
"No, it wasn't like that." I hesitated, then gave in. "I went to get snacks, and on my way home it started pouring. And then-- there was this guy. Just... standing in the rain."
" Wait. like, 'The Notebook' standing in the rain? or creepy serial killer vibes?
"Neither. He was just...there. Calm. Like the rain didn't bother him at all...and when I asked him about it, we argued"
" Ooooh"
"No. No 'oooh'. It wasn't cute. he was smug and annoying and acted like the human version of a cryptic poem"
Tessa laughed so hard I had to pull the phone away from my ear." "Aria, that's not a red flag. It almost like it was fate, hahaha"
" It's not fate. It's bad weather and poor decision-making."
She snorted. " You never talk to strangers. Ever. And now you're telling me you had a whole scene with a mysterious guy in the rain?"
" It wasn't a scene, I was a misunderstanding with dramatic lighting."
"More like a meet-cute to me"
I groaned. "No. No meet. No cute. I never want to see him again."
"Uh-huh", she said in that sing-song voice that meant she didn't believe me for a second. " Well, I hope you're ready, because fate doesn't really take no for an answer".
" I'm hanging up now."
" Love you too."
I ended the call and stared at the ceiling for a second. Then got up to freshen up and head out. I had work to get to.
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Work was exactly the same.
The gallery smelled like lemon floor polish and dry paint, the front desk had that annoying stack of flyers that no one ever touched, and the air conditioning still blew a little too aggressively in the morning.
It was normal. Comfortably, boring normal.
I hung up my jacket, said good morning to Mr. Folarin {who responded with a grunt and a nod, as usual}, and slipped into the back room to go over our schedule for the week. A new installation was coming in next Tuesday, which meant we'd have to arrange the northeast wing again. But that could wait. My legs were already carrying me toward my favorite corner of the gallery-- the one no one ever really visited.
The abandoned paintings.
That's what I called them, anyway. pieces with no artist tags, no bids. Just left behind forgotten thoughts. There was one in particular I always found myself staring at. A grey-toned piece that looked unfinished, like the artist gave up halfway through-- but to me, it said everything.
Loss. Distance. Silence.
It was haunting and weird and perfect.
I stood in front of it, letting myself drift. My eyes traced every brush stroke like they were secrets, and I felt that familiar ache in my chest--the kind that only art could stir in me.
" Nice, huh?"
The voice was deep. Casual. Too close.
I flinched so hard I nearly dropped my clipboard, spinning around-- that's when it happened.
My foot slipped a little, my balance tilted, and I landed directly into someone's arm.
Strong arms.
And just like that, time stopped.
I mean, not literally--but it felt that way. His face was so close. And his eyes-- dark, calm, unsettlingly familiar. We just...stared. Locked in some kind of wordless moment that didn't make any sense. My brain completely short-circuited. It was like the air changed. Like the silence between us was thick with something electric.
" Are you getting up any time soon?" he asked, breaking the awkward silence that has filled the room...