After The Rain Novels & Stories

- All good - I say to end the conversation. (...) I was watering the flowers, scolding myself right away for seeing that the sky was more closed than yesterday, it's probably going to rain later or in the morning. I liked the rain, it refreshed the hot days that made the concrete bake you. - Let the rain take care of them later, dear - Betina says walking towards me, she had left the house. - And the Erased?

After the scorching heat earlier, the heavy pouring rain took place in the afternoon. Everyone was headed to the hut while waiting for the rain to pour down. Georgia took a peek on the window and saw everyone in there, including her mother who brought them warm coffees. Georgia breathed out, as if to indicate that she was determined about doing something. At the same time she brushed her gaze off, another gaze from one of those farmers laid on the window where she was just at.

The morning after the storm brought a silence so profound it felt heavy. The valley, washed clean by the deluge, shimmered under a pale, post-rain sun. The creek had retreated into its banks, though it left behind a landscape rearranged—driftwood piled against the bridge pilings, new gravel bars where the path had been, and a thick, rich layer of silt coating the garden's edge.

“I love the rain so much. It's always calm and cool. I also love it when a rainbow appears after.” As she said these words, Adrian looked at her with so much interest. “It reminds me of the beauty and happiness that comes after a very heavy storm in one's life.” She said, turning her head to look at him and their eyes met. Unspoken emotions were passed through the connection of their eyes.

Rowan’s scent still lingers faintly in the air, sharp and familiar, but he’s not here. I sit up, heart quickening. Outside, the storm has shifted into a steady summer rain, warm and rhythmic against the roof. I push to my feet and step into my boots, the air cool against my skin as I slip outside. The valley looks transformed. Where destruction ruled yesterday, peace has begun to settle. The rain falls softly now, washing soot from the stones. The trees glisten with dew, the air heavy but clean. Mist rises from the fields where the flood has begun to retreat.

"After breakfast, Debra and I will go for rehearsal and a workout. I think I have gained a bit of weight." Ketra said while playing with Rain's nose. "Can we sleep a little more?" Rain was holding her waist with one hand while the other checked her injury. His eyes were tightly shut as he still felt sleepy and much more. He needed her warmth. "When did you become this lazy, Rain Hilton?" She asked playfully and giggled after. Rain immediately opened his eyes and pulled her closer to him. He sniffed her hair, taking in her vanilla mint scent greedily as his morning energy pill.

The morning air in Ashford Hollow carried the scent of damp earth, wet cedar, and something faintly metallic that always lingered after heavy rain. Clara Whitmore stood behind the worn oak counter of Willow & Ink, smoothing the spines of a stack of newly donated novels, aligning them with meticulous care. The storm had returned sometime after midnight. She had woken to its rhythm—steady, persistent, almost purposeful. Rain in Ashford Hollow was never merely weather. It was a messenger. A reminder. A whisper.

Divine retribution. Stella sat in front of her computer and scrolled through the comments with a faint smile. She opened her social media account and posted a message. [Rainie, I forgive you. Even though you treated me so badly, I know you still loved me deep down. Now that you're gone, I will keep living well. I will also endure the criticism meant for you. Rest in peace.] The post spread like wildfire. Within minutes, it had been shared tens of thousands of times. The comment section flooded with praise.

Dealing with Suho’s unprecedented confession was too much to bear. Not tonight, Hana. Let it pass. Outside, the rain poured like there’s no tomorrow. It’s sound deafening, piercing through the depths of her soul. That night, as a torrent of rain washed out the dust outside, her pillow drenched with water from her eyes. The searing pain drew all over her body, blinding her sight, reaping her brain apart. Everything went fuzzy. The morning after, remnants of the thunderstorms from the previous night filled the surrounding water puddle everywhere.

Rain thought that might be it--the River Red--but she didn’t waste what was left of her breath to ask Mist. “Come on, Rain,” Adam said, pausing for her at the bottom of the hill. Picking up her pace, she let her momentum carry her down the hill. Through the trees before her, she could see a meandering stream of what appeared to be freshwater. They were almost there. Even if she ended up getting coated in mud again, the idea of rinsing herself clean from the rain was enticing, so Rain ran even faster, the prospect of washing away the dirt weighing her down as inviting as the soft scent of freedom teasing her from the distant shore.