I'm Jealous Of The Rain Novels & Stories

It’s the gap between who you are and who you want to be for someone else. ​Then there’s the second part of that question—the one that actually keeps me up at night. Have you ever thought about what it’s like to love someone who already has the whole world, while you’re still standing there with empty hands? ​I used to hate the rain. I hated the way it turned the sky a bruised, heavy grey and made the air feel thick with a sadness I couldn’t quite name. It felt like the world was mourning something, and I didn’t want to be part of the funeral. Back then, rain just meant wet shoes, delayed buses, and a mood that I couldn't shake for days. I’d stay inside, staring out the window, waiting for th

We have spent every day together since she arrived here. Small rain droplets begin to splash against my cheeks. Overcome with joy, I skip and twirl as the light sky is replaced by dark clouds. Bounding from street to street, I revel in the gloomy weather. I’m singing in the rain. Just singing in the rain. What a glorious feelin’ I’m happy again.

Chapter 137 Jace It's raining. Of course, it's raining. Seems like the sky's been crying for months, mirroring the constant downpour in my soul. The city is slick and dark, reflecting the neon lights in distorted puddles. Perfect. Just perfect. I'm standing on the rooftop, the rain plastering my hair to my forehead, soaking through my clothes. The wind whips around me, carrying the scent of wet asphalt and regret. I don't even shiver. Numbness has become my default setting.

She placed her chin on her hand as she smiled dreamily at the ceiling, "tell me about the tall buildings, tell me about the movie stars and Beyonce. Tell me about the rain, tell me about dates and tell me about cars." I laughed at that, "well, I've never met Beyonce, but when I do see her on TV she's glorious. I love tall buildings as well, except the appropriate word is sky scraper. Uhm, you've never seen rain before?" I asked her, frowning, "does it not rain here ?" She laughed, throwing her head back, "I've seen rain, but I've never touched it or anything. Look at me, I'm tiny. Raindrops are like stones to me, so if I did step out into the rain, it'll be suicide."

“Cat got your tongue Budz? Are you jealous?” “I am jealous, very, very jealous!” Ami looked at him puzzled. “But why will you be jealous? You have been my bff for a long time. I do not see why you feel so strongly against him” “Don’t you see Ami, “ Rain got hold of her face and forced her to look at him. “We had been bffs for a long time yet in a span of almost a year, you were laughing and having fun with someone else, who wasn’t me. It hurt you know.” Rain suddenly let go of her face and leaned his head back, closing his eyes. Ami could see he was struggling with something else but she couldn’t make herself ask, afraid of what it might be. She contented herself with drumming her fingers o

quipped in Nisim. “No, it doesn’t. At least for me, it doesn’t. I feel happy whenever I get drenched in rain,” Jahnobi replied, and then she asked me how I felt. I said that it felt great, especially, to get drenched in mistimed rains. The rain-drenched moment with Junali flashed in like a collage of monochromatic images. Along with those images, echoed the promise I had made to myself: I wouldn’t leave you, no matter how embarrassing the moments are.

It’s raining outside. I hate the rain. I stand at the window, arms wrapped tight around my stomach, watching the drops streak down the glass like tears. Each one feels like it’s pulling something out of me, some piece of myself I can’t afford to lose. “Is something bothering you?” Kieran’s voice cuts through my spiral, and I stiffen. “No.” “You’ve been standing there for some time now.” I press my lips together. “I just don’t like it when it rains.”

I felt the heat rising on my skin, almost making all my resistance want to melt away. “Stop! Let me be, Rain,” I retorted lowly. And he pulled back. “Are you okay?” he asked. “Yes, I'm fine. I just want you to let me work.” “Debbie…” “What? I'm not good enough to be appreciated? Did you compliment my earrings?” Rain chuckled, his lips grazing my earlobe. “Debbie…” he drawled my name. “You jealous?” he asked. I scoffed. “No, never. I can’t.”

I said, glancing toward Rain, who was now sulking on the couch. “Rain?” I called. “What?” he mumbled. “Don’t even look at the oven.” “Ugh. I hate all of you.” “We love you, too,” Lia called sweetly. Rain flopped onto his side with a dramatic groan. “Tell my tragic tale, won’t you?” Jesse snorted. “Only if you stop narrating your suffering like it's a Shakespearean monologue.” “Never,” Rain declared, one hand on his forehead. “This is my art.”