Chapter 1

The rain had always been a perfect shade for me. It drowned out the noise of the world — the gossip, the expectations, the loneliness. Standing by the café window, I watched droplets slide down the glass like tiny dancers. I wasn’t expecting love. Not today, not ever.

I was waiting for the rain to stop so I could go home to my quiet apartment — and the quiet ache that had lived there for years.

“Then suddenly appeared a mysterious creature”

The bell above the café door chimed softly, and with it came a gust of wind and the faint scent of mint and rain. As soon as the door opened, I spotted the creature I had seen recently whispering something under his breath about broken umbrellas. My eyes lifted from my untouched cup of tea — and landed on him.

He wasn’t striking in the obvious way. His dark hair was a mess, his grey hoodie damp, and his jeans bore splashes of mud. But there was something about his eyes — soft, thoughtful, and strangely familiar — that made my heartbeat stumble.

Rand who was an exclusive billionaire investor with a quiet soul and a past hidden beneath his success

The stranger ordered coffee, then glanced around for a seat. The café was nearly full. I could have looked away, but fate, that silent puppeteer, had other plans. Our eyes met.

He smiled — a small, apologetic curve of the lips — and gestured to the empty chair across from him

“Mind if I sit?”

I hesitated. My heart whispered Say yes. My mind argued otherwise. I nodded. “Sure.”

He sat, his coffee steaming between them. Silence stretched, comfortable but curious.

“I’m Rand Calloway, "He said after a moment, offering his hand.”

“Elena Maren,” My fingers brushed his — warm, calloused, alive.”

For some reason I couldn't explain, I wanted to keep talking. Maybe it was the rain. Maybe it was his voice — calm, with a trace of laughter hidden behind it.

“What brings you out in this weather?” he asked.

“I could ask you the same thing,” I replied, smiling softly.

He chuckled. “Touché. I guess… I like storms. They make the world pause.”

My eyes lit up. “Me too. Everyone rushes less. Everything feels slower, real.”

Our words began to flow like the rain outside — steady, natural, unforced. We talked about books, lost dreams, and favourite coffee blends. I learned he was an architect who had left the city for a break, and he learned I was a painter who hadn’t touched a brush in months.

Then came the silence again — but this time, it was warm like two people who had known each other far longer than thirty minutes.

“Do you ever feel,” he asked quietly, “like you’re waiting for something, but you don’t know what?”

I looked at him, startled. That was my thought — the one I never said aloud. “All the time,” I whispered.

His eyes softened. “Maybe it’s not something we’re waiting for. Maybe it’s someone.”

My heart skipped. I wanted to laugh it off, but his gaze held me still. The rain outside thickened, drumming against the glass like applause from heaven itself.

Rand reached for his cup, fingers trembling slightly. “You know, this is strange. I wasn’t supposed to come in here. I was heading to the station, but my umbrella broke. If it hadn’t…”

“You wouldn’t have come in,” I finished for him.

He smiled again — slower this time, as if he was memorising the curve of my face.

Outside, the clouds began to thin. Sunlight crept through the glass, touching my hair. He noticed how the light turned the brown strands into gold, and for a moment, he forgot to breathe.

“I think the rain’s stopping,” I said, glancing out the window.

“Yeah,” he replied softly. “But I kind of wish it wouldn’t.”

I met his eyes, and for the first time in years, something fluttered inside my chest — something alive.

When we finally stepped outside, the street glistened like silver. Puddles mirrored the world upside down.

“Which way are you headed?” he asked.

“Down Night Street.”

His face brightened. “Me too.”

We walked together, our shoulders brushing occasionally. Every touch sparked something quiet but electric.

At the corner, we paused under a dripping awning.

“This is me,” I said, nodding toward the row of small apartments.

He nodded. “I guess… this is goodbye, then.”

“Guess so.”

But neither of us moved.

“Elena,” he said suddenly, “can I see your paintings sometime?”

I blinked. “I haven’t painted in a long time.”

“Then start again. For me. For you.” His voice carried no pressure, only sincerity.

I smiled, a real one this time — fragile but glowing. “Maybe I will.”

He started to turn away, then paused. “Would you believe me if I said this feels like something?”

He tilted my head. “Something like what?”

“Like the beginning of a story.”

My laugh was soft and surprising. “Maybe it is.”

He grinned. “Then promise me one thing — when you paint again, call me. I want to see the rain through your eyes.”

Before I could answer, he stepped backwards, waving once, then disappearing into the slowly clearing streets.

I stood there, heart racing, cheeks warm. For the first time in years, I felt weightless.

That night, I found my old brushes. Dust covered the handles, but the moment I held one, my fingers remembered the rhythm. I painted until dawn — colours of storm and sunlight, grey skies and gold reflections.

When I finished, I realised I had painted him — Rand, under the rain, smiling as though he had always belonged there.

The next morning, I took the painting to the café. It was still early; the air smelled of fresh bread and dew. The owner, Mrs Callahan, greeted her warmly.

“Elena! Back to painting again?”

“Yes,” I said softly, hanging the piece near the window. “Back to painting.”

I ordered her tea and sat by the glass, just as before. The rain began again, light and playful.

The bell above the door chimed.

I didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

He was smiling, holding two cups of coffee. “You started without me.”

I laughed. “You said it was the beginning of a story.”

He nodded. “Then let’s make sure it never ends.”

And as the rain danced out

We sat side by side — no longer strangers waiting for something, but two hearts that had finally found their place.