UNDER THE RAIN

The cemetery was quiet.

Not the eerie kind of quiet, but the peaceful one. The kind that made Sophie feel like she wasn't intruding—just visiting. The air was still, the trees barely swayed, and the gravestones stretched in tidy rows like old books shelved in eternal rest.

Sophie walked between them with slow steps, her arms wrapped tightly around her journal. She found a bench near the older part of the cemetery, where the stones were worn smooth and the moss crept up the edges. No one was around. That was how she liked it.

She sat down, pulled her legs up slightly, and opened her journal.

The pages were familiar now—ink-smudged with the weight of secrets, longings, memories, and reflections. She turned to a new page, drew a small flower in the corner, and began to write:

> *Some days I feel like time is slipping through my fingers. Like I'm trying to hold onto smoke.*

>

> *I don't know where James is. Or what he's thinking. But it hurts. Even though I told myself it wouldn't.*

>

> *I didn't plan on meeting him. Or liking him. But I do. And now I don't know what to do with all the space he's left behind.*

>

> *Maybe this is the price of feeling something real. You have to be willing to ache for it.*

She stopped writing.

The silence around her wasn't heavy—it felt reflective, like even the earth was listening. The cemetery's hush gave her a strange sense of companionship. Here, no one demanded anything of her. She could just be. And somehow, that was enough.

A small bird fluttered to a nearby gravestone. It hopped twice, tilted its head at her, then flitted off into the sky. Sophie tracked its movement and then turned her gaze upward.

The clouds had changed while she'd been writing. They were thicker now—charcoal swirls and muted whites, rolling across the sky like slow waves. A breeze tugged lightly at her sweater.

She hugged her journal tighter.

There was something oddly calming about the place. She'd come with no expectations—just the need to breathe, to sit, to be still. But now, a part of her didn't want to leave.

She stared at the grave closest to her—a name carved deep into stone, with a faded photograph of a woman smiling beneath a sunhat. Sophie wondered who had loved her. Who had stood at this very bench and cried when she passed. Time had worn away the sharpness of grief here, but the love still lingered. Sophie could feel it.

And then, the first drop of rain fell.

She blinked and looked up.

Another drop.

And another.

In moments, the sky opened completely, and rain began to fall in earnest.

Sophie scrambled to close her journal, clutching it tightly against her chest as she rose from the bench. Her clothes were getting soaked quickly, and the bench she'd been sitting on was already slick with water.

She looked around for cover but saw none nearby. The large oak trees that bordered the far end of the cemetery were too far away, and the stone mausoleum was locked. With no other option, she held her notebook over her head in a feeble attempt to shield herself.

She took a few steps forward.

Then paused.

For a moment, she was tempted to laugh. This was her life now—standing in the middle of a cemetery, drenched in rain, holding a journal like it was an umbrella.

She sighed.

But just as she was about to walk away—

An umbrella appeared over her head.

Its black fabric flared out above her, instantly cutting off the rain. She froze. Her entire body tensed as the cool air around her changed. She could feel someone standing just behind her, close enough for her to sense them, but not touching her.

Her heart skipped a beat.

She didn't turn right away.

She just stood there.

And then, very slowly, she turned her head—her breath caught in her throat.

Guess who it was.

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