Beneath The Rain

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Chapter Two

The rain greeted Adrian like an old companion as he woke to its rhythmic tapping against the window. It was a sound that carried both comfort and ache, a melody he had grown accustomed to over the years. He sat up slowly, running a hand through his hair, his mind clouded by the lingering fragments of a dream.

It had been the same dream again—her laughter, soft and fleeting, echoing in a memory he could never quite grasp. Diana. She was always just out of reach, like the sunlight breaking through the rain, only to disappear before he could feel its warmth.

He glanced at the notebook on his bedside table, its pages open to a hastily written line:

"Evelyn loved music, but she hated silence."

Evelyn. His fictional muse. The name was his shield, a layer of separation between his memories and the truth. But every word he wrote about her felt like tracing Diana's shadow.

His phone buzzed on the nightstand, pulling him from his thoughts. It was a message from Emily:

"Rain again. Your usual table's ready if you're coming by."

A faint smile touched his lips as he replied, "On my way."

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The café was a sanctuary, its warm glow contrasting against the cold, gray drizzle outside. Adrian pushed the door open, shaking off his umbrella as the familiar aroma of coffee and pastries wrapped around him.

Emily waved from behind the counter, her messy bun barely containing her unruly curls. "Adrian! Late start again?"

He shrugged, a sheepish grin forming. "The rain makes it hard to leave the bed."

"Or maybe it's the writing," she teased, sliding his usual black coffee across the counter. "You've got that haunted artist vibe today. Let me guess—Evelyn's giving you trouble?"

Adrian chuckled, though the weight in his chest lingered. "She's always trouble. But that's what makes her interesting."

Emily raised an eyebrow, her curiosity evident. "Interesting, huh? Sounds familiar."

He didn't respond, instead taking his coffee and retreating to his usual corner table by the window.

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The rain outside blurred the world, streaking the glass like tears. Adrian opened his notebook, staring at the last line he had written the night before. The words seemed foreign now, like they belonged to someone else.

He tapped his pen against the table, his thoughts wandering.

The first time he saw Diana, it had been raining.

The memory unfolded in his mind with startling clarity. He had been standing under the awning of a small bookstore, waiting out a sudden summer storm. That's when she appeared—bright red umbrella in hand, her laughter carrying above the rain as she nearly tripped on the slick pavement.

"Looks like we're stuck," she had said, flashing him a playful smile.

Her voice had been light, teasing, as if they were already sharing a private joke. Adrian had smiled back, awkward but charmed.

"Yeah," he had replied, adjusting his glasses nervously. "Seems like it."

She had leaned against the awning beside him, the scent of rain and something floral lingering in the air. They talked for what felt like hours, the storm fading into the background as they exchanged stories about books, life, and everything in between.

The memory felt like a photograph—sharp, vivid, and slightly frayed at the edges. It had been the start of everything. The start of their laughter, their shared moments under the rain.

And eventually, the start of their unraveling.

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Adrian's pen hovered over the page as the memory faded, leaving an ache in its wake. He wanted to write about Evelyn, but Diana's presence was too strong. Her voice, her smile, the way she used to laugh at his awkward jokes—it all bled into Evelyn's character, no matter how hard he tried to separate them.

He scribbled another line, his hand moving almost of its own accord:

"Evelyn had a way of making you feel like you were the only person in the room. But she also had a way of disappearing, quietly, before you even realized she was gone."

The words startled him. They felt too raw, too close to the truth. He stared at the page, the rain outside echoing the turmoil inside him.

"Need a refill?" Emily's voice broke through his thoughts. She stood beside his table, holding a fresh pot of coffee.

Adrian nodded, pushing his cup toward her. "Thanks."

She poured the coffee, studying him with a knowing look. "You've got that look again."

"What look?"

"The one that says you're drowning in your own head," she said, setting the cup down gently. "Maybe it's time to come up for air?"

Adrian gave her a weak smile. "Maybe."

But even as he said it, he knew he wouldn't. Not yet. There was still too much of the story left to write, too many memories to sift through.

The rain continued to fall, a steady rhythm against the window, as Adrian picked up his pen and began to write again.

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