When the Rain Stopped, I Left

The car stopped at the entrance to our apartment complex.

The security guard wouldn't let unregistered vehicles into the underground garage. Maya, worried I'd get drenched, rolled down her window to argue with him.

I held her back and shook my head.

"It's fine. The lobby isn't far. Thanks for the ride tonight."

I pushed open the car door and dashed into the downpour.

The rain hammered down like gravel, stinging my face.

It was only a few hundred feet, but by the time I made it into the apartment lobby, my coat was plastered to my body and the blouse underneath was soaked through.

I kept my head down so the neighbors in the elevator wouldn't see the state I was in, went inside, and headed straight for the bathroom.

Hot water poured over my head, washing away the chill and the tears I had been holding back for so long.

Maya must have seen it just now.

Seen that the Evelyn the entire campus had envied for four years couldn't even get someone to bring her an umbrella.

Back in college, Noah had been the most famous perfect boyfriend on campus.

Every year, the alumni forum voted on "Most Swoon-Worthy Partner," and his name always topped the list.

Seattle was a rainy city. Once it started, it could go on for half a month.

I hated the rain.

Mud would splash onto my hem, my leather shoes would warp, my hair would stick to my neck. The damp cold made everything miserable.

Back then, Noah would clean my boots, dry my coat, pour hot coffee into a thermos, and wait for me outside the dorm.

The campus drainage was terrible, and he always carried me across the worst of the flooded cobblestones.

Whenever the sun came out, everyone would lay their blankets on the lawn to dry. I never had to.

Noah would have already taken my blanket up to the rooftop terrace first thing in the morning, claiming the sunniest spot for me.

Those years, everyone said the same thing. "Evelyn, what more could you possibly want?"

I used to think so too.

Until Selena came to this city.

She kept showing up in our lives, always as the childhood neighbor.

On a rare weekend off, she'd say her fireplace wouldn't light.

On our anniversary dinner, she'd say her kitchen pipes were leaking.

On Christmas Eve, she'd say she was too lonely in the city all by herself.

Her most frequent excuse was the cat she and Noah had rescued from a barn when they were kids.

When I came out of the bathroom, my phone lit up.

It was a message from Maya.

"I went back and forth about it, but I think you should know. When I was heading to the dinner this afternoon, I ran into Noah at the riverside park. There was a woman next to him, holding a cat."

She sent a photo after that.

In the photo, Selena was crouched by the grass, playing with the cat.

Noah stood behind her, holding her jacket, looking down at her with a tenderness so soft it could melt.

Anyone who saw it would read too much into it.

So Maya had already seen my humiliation.

No wonder at dinner, while the others were reminiscing about how good Noah was to me, Maya alone had held my hand and said, "Our Evelyn is smart, beautiful, and deserves to be loved properly."

The ache in my chest swelled again.

The lock clicked. Noah was home.

I gave him a flat look and turned toward the open kitchen.

He followed me in, wrapped his arms around me from behind, rested his chin on my shoulder, and spoke in that low, carefully measured tenderness he always knew how to deploy.

"Throwing a little tantrum again? The second I walked in, I knew you'd pick a fight.

"I didn't pick you up, so your girlfriends were talking behind my back, right?"

I said nothing.

He chuckled and kept going on his own.

"Probably not. After all, they saw how well I spoiled you back then. They're probably taking my side. Am I right?"

A wave of nausea surged up my throat.

I shoved him away.