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1318 Words
Chapter Two – The Reunion
The rain came back the night Lila least expected it.
Not a heavy downpour—just that steady, whispering kind that softens the edges of the world. The kind that soaks through the air and smells like memory.
The campus was nearly empty. Umbrellas bobbed in the distance, streetlights glowed gold against the slick pavement, and the library windows reflected streaks of gray and amber light.
Lila tucked her sketchbook under her arm, hoodie pulled tight, sneakers scuffing through shallow puddles. She had stayed late, as always—drawing until the world outside faded into watercolor.
She liked nights like this. They reminded her of home.
Of a promise made under a tree.
Of a boy she hadn’t seen in six years.
She told herself she didn’t think about him anymore.
But rain had a way of undoing all the neatness she’d built around her heart.
Her phone buzzed—Maya, her roommate.
> You still in the library? The storm’s gonna get worse 😭 hurry up before you drown.
Lila smiled faintly and typed back,
> Leaving now. Rain’s not that bad.
She didn’t send the part she almost wrote—It never is.
The wind picked up as she crossed the quad. Trees leaned and whispered, branches trembling. The lamps flickered, and the sound of rain on pavement grew louder, steadier, like an old song playing again after too long.
Then she saw him.
Across the path, under the overhang near the engineering building, a tall figure stood half-shadowed, a hood pulled up over messy brown hair. He was staring at the rain like he was trying to read something in it.
Even from a distance, something about him—the posture, the shape of his hands, the way he tilted his head—made her heart twist.
No. It couldn’t be.
He turned, as if her thoughts had called him. The light caught his face.
Older now, sharper jaw, broader shoulders—but those same storm-gray eyes.
Aiden.
Her breath hitched. For a moment, neither of them moved. The years between them felt like fog—thin, fragile, easily breakable.
Then he smiled, uncertain, almost shy. “Lila?”
It was ridiculous how fast her pulse went up.
She blinked, laughed softly, breath catching in the cool air. “Hey.”
He took a step closer, rain spattering his hoodie. “You—wow. I almost didn’t recognize you.”
“Yeah,” she said, tucking a damp strand of hair behind her ear. “It’s been… a while.”
“Six years,” he said automatically, then winced. “Not that I was counting.”
Her laugh came out small, nervous. “You remember the exact number?”
“Yeah.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Guess I do.”
---
Aiden’s POV
It was strange, how the rain hadn’t changed.
Same silver sheets falling through the air, same quiet hush over everything. But the girl standing in front of him wasn’t the one from his childhood sketches anymore.
She was taller, calmer, her eyes softer but more guarded. Still, when she smiled—it was the same Lila.
He’d seen her name once, on a campus event flyer. “Lila Everett – Art Department.” He’d meant to reach out, maybe say hey, remember me? but what would he even say after vanishing?
Now she was here. Real. Close enough that raindrops clung to her lashes.
He swallowed. “You still draw?”
Her eyes lit just a little. “Every day.”
“I knew you would,” he said, smiling.
“What about you? You used to say you wanted to build rockets.”
“Switched to architecture,” he said, half-grinning. “Guess I still like building things that touch the sky.”
Her laugh was quiet but warm, and God, he’d missed that sound.
They stood there, unsure of what to say next. Rain pooled around their shoes, reflecting golden light. Every few seconds, thunder murmured like distant conversation.
Aiden gestured toward the coffee shop across the street. “You want to—uh—wait out the rain?”
She hesitated, then nodded. “Yeah. Sure.”
---
Inside, the air was thick with the smell of espresso and wet wool. The place was mostly empty, save for a few students hiding from the storm. They found a booth by the window. Lila drew little shapes in the condensation on her glass, while Aiden tried not to stare too much.
“Do you still live around Brookside?” she asked.
He shook his head. “No. My parents moved again. I stayed here for school.”
“I haven’t been back either.” She smiled faintly. “Probably still the same. Same tree at the end of the street.”
That made his chest tighten. “The oak?”
“Yeah.”
He leaned back, exhaling. “I used to think about that place every time it rained.”
She glanced up, startled. “You did?”
He nodded, eyes distant. “Kept expecting the sky to tell me something.”
For a moment, the noise of the café faded. Rain drummed steadily against the window. Lila looked at him, searching his expression, and he saw the question in her eyes—the why didn’t you call? and did you forget me?
But neither of them said it.
Instead, she smiled gently and said, “You were terrible at keeping promises.”
He laughed softly. “Still am. But… maybe I could try again?”
Lila tilted her head. “Try what?”
“Keeping one.”
Her fingers brushed the edge of her cup, tracing the rim. “What kind?”
“The kind that starts with coffee and maybe ends with rain.”
She laughed then, cheeks pink, and he swore the whole storm could have stopped just to listen.
---
Later, when the rain eased and they walked back through the glowing streets, the wind tugged at their clothes. Streetlights shimmered in the puddles. Everything smelled alive.
Aiden walked beside her, careful not to step too close but close enough to feel the warmth of her shoulder through the air.
When she stumbled slightly over a c***k in the pavement, he caught her arm without thinking. His hand lingered a heartbeat too long.
“Still clumsy,” he teased quietly.
“Still nosy,” she replied.
They both smiled, and in the dim golden light, the moment stretched—like that single breath before thunder.
It was the same silence they used to share as kids under the oak. Only now, it carried something new.
Something that hummed quietly in the air between them.
They reached the dorms. The rain had thinned into a mist. Lila stopped at the entrance, turning to face him.
“Thanks for walking me.”
“Anytime,” he said, and meant it.
For a second, neither moved. The night wrapped around them—wind, moonlight, and the soft smell of wet leaves.
She looked up at him, eyes glinting gold from the streetlight.
“You know,” she said, “it’s raining.”
He smiled, almost shy. “Yeah. Guess the sky remembered us.”
And before she could stop herself, she laughed—soft, breathless, and just a little nervous. “See you around, Aiden.”
He wanted to say don’t disappear again.
Instead, he said, “See you, Lila.”
She turned and slipped inside, her reflection vanishing behind the glass doors.
Aiden stood there for a long moment, staring at the rain sliding down the window, until he whispered—more to the night than to himself—
“Promise kept.”
Outside, the storm rolled on, gentle and endless, as if the world had been waiting all this time just for them to find each other again.
- Writer
