Wind Rain And The Years Between Us Novels & Stories

As the rain grew heavier, forever busy bustling walkway emptied, leaving Izan and me standing there completely alone! The rain fell hard, dancing with the wind, and it caught us off guard. As Izan and I exchanged fleeting glances, a sudden gust of wind whipped the rain in all direction, drenching us unexpectedly, forcing us to get to the middle standing beside each other, only a breath of distance between us.

I'm afraid if I say a single word, I'll disrupt our regular rhythm, and Xavier will be even angrier at me than he already is. Each second becomes the same as the next, nothing changes as time passes. The rain continues to hit us hard on the back and soak us to the core. The sharp claws of the wind accentuate the biting cold, grabbing us and not letting go. It is a nightmare in itself, even my vision becomes blurred under the rain. Without my silent companions, I would have already given up, crawling under a random tree and sulking.

Brendan opened the car door and rushed into the pouring rain, tightly holding Deirdre in his arms. He used his coat to shield her face, but the relentless rain mercilessly assaulted his face. The remaining warmth was stripped away with each gust of wind, leaving countless unseen yet agonizing wounds. The downpour was so intense that Brendan could hardly keep his eyes open. The roaring of the wind and rain echoed in his ears. He felt Deirdre move in his arms and heard her weak voice.

Final. “You don’t deserve survival.” I held his gaze just long enough for it to land. “It’s your turn now.” “I hope you lose everything.” The doors closed on his face before he could answer. * The rain in Los Angeles looked different from fifty floors up. Five years ago, it meant damp clothes that never fully dried, leaking ceilings, nights spent choosing between the bus and dinner. Now it moved silently against reinforced glass, tracing slow lines that disappeared almost as soon as they formed. I stood by the window with a mug of tea between my hands—chamomile, Maria’s choice—and kept my grip steady, even as something restless moved beneath the surface.

I wanted to step back outside, go to him, press my body against his again, lose myself in that connection. I pressed my hand against the glass, grounding myself, fighting the urge to move. His hand mirrored mine, rain streaming down his face as he stared directly at me. The storm continued to rage, wind howling, rain pelting down, yet neither of us moved. We simply looked at each other, as if the world outside had vanished, leaving only the storm inside us.

He smiled at Eve, his eyes full of affection. Eve chuckled. “Rob, if you just want to travel, sure, we can be travel buddies. But if this is your way of pursuing me during the trip, I think I’ll pass. I just got out of a failed marriage. My heart is a mess right now. I won’t be thinking about romance for a long time. I hope you understand.” Her gentle refusal did not deter Rob.

Ocean refuses to help with any of the sneaky guessing games Ocean’s been running. I watch Storm head toward the house. Rain’s voice drifts out from the open kitchen window... eighteen months old, dark-haired, solid as a little tank, and bossing the whole kitchen around with Hannah. Rain does everything with this serious focus, like the world is one giant project and she’s the only one qualified to run it. She talks in full, careful sentences already, like she figured out words are power tools and she’s not wasting any.

Ten seconds before the bomb detonated, I decisively clipped the blue wire, saving hundreds of lives inside the high-rise building. At the celebration dinner, Robert Vance—our bomb squad captain—handed the top honor to the new rookie, Vivian Reed. “Let the new girl have it. You don’t want people to say I favor you, do you?” Throughout our five years of secret dating, he had used this same excuse repeatedly to shut me up before I could even complain. Every life-threatening mission fell entirely on my shoulders. Yet every honor and public commendation was without fail handed to someone else. Clutching my bleeding side, I retreated to a corner. From afar, I watched Vivian accept the vibrant bouq

My wife Naomi Holden's phone was always on silent mode. Whenever I needed to reach her, the call never went through. My only option was to ask everyone around us, but when every single person gave a different answer, I already knew the truth. She was with him again, the frail man she had never been able to let go of. On our seventh anniversary, we had plans to meet at our usual spot for dinner. Three hours passed, and she still had not shown up. I stood on the street, burning with fever, dialing one number after another. My father picked up, his voice warm and unhurried. "Naomi just came by for dinner. Don't worry, I've got my eye on her for you." A friend working at her company lau

“Yes, Chisom. I am.” I shook my head slowly. “No.” She stared at me through her tears. “No?” she repeated. “You can't just sit there and tell me you're my mother as if nothing happened.” My voice grew louder with every word. “You can't call me your baby after all these years and expect me to act like everything is normal. Do you know how many times I've wanted to ask you something? Do you know how many nights I've cried because I didn't understand why you weren't there?”