The rain began just as Amara stepped out of the office. Heavy drops splashed onto the pavement, blurring the lights of passing cars and soaking the air with the scent of fresh earth. She stood under the small shade of the building, clutching her bag, and realized she hadn’t brought her umbrella.
For a moment, she considered running for the bus stop, but the thought of arriving home drenched made her sigh. Just then, she heard her name.
She turned and saw Daniel, walking toward her with a wide black umbrella. His smile was the kind that carried warmth even in the cold rain. “What are the chances?” he said, tilting the umbrella so that it covered her too.
Relief washed over her, and she couldn’t help but smile back. “You always show up at the right time,” she said.
“Maybe the rain planned this,” he teased.
They began walking slowly through the quiet streets, their shoulders brushing lightly under the umbrella. The rain drummed above them like a soft melody, while puddles reflected the golden glow of the streetlamps. They spoke about little things—the traffic, the sudden change of weather, a funny memory from work—but beneath the words was something unspoken, something gentle.
By the time they reached her doorstep, the rain still hadn’t stopped. Daniel held the umbrella over her as she searched for her keys. For a moment, neither of them moved, as though the night itself wanted to linger.
“Thank you,” she whispered, her voice softer than the rain.
Daniel looked at her, his eyes steady. “Anytime.”
As she stepped inside, Amara caught herself wishing the rain would last a little longer, just so she could have one more walk home under his umbrella.
