The rain was still coming down hard when Lara stepped out of the house, an umbrella in her hand, her coat already damp from the mist in the air. The night was cold, the kind that bit through skin and settled deep in the bones.
As the gate creaked open, she saw him.
Lucas.
Soaked from head to toe, standing under the downpour as if he didn’t feel the cold. His clothes clung to him, drenched, his hair plastered to his forehead. When his eyes found her, they lit up with desperate relief—like he had been holding on to nothing but hope.
“Lara,” he breathed, his voice was barely audible over the storm.
She approached him slowly, her footsteps quiet against the pavement, and stopped just in front of him. She held the umbrella over them both, shielding him from the rain. Her face remained calm, her voice steady.
“Go home, Lucas,” she said gently.
But Lucas didn’t move. Rain slid down his cheeks like tears, but Lara quickly realized they weren’t just from the storm.
He stared at her, ey
