Another Dream
1207 Words
The rain had not stopped by morning.
It had continued throughout the night, drumming against the windows until the sound became part of her dreams. When she finally opened her eyes, the room was still gray and dim, the sky outside covered by thick clouds.
For a few seconds, she simply stared at the ceiling.
Then she remembered Adrian.
She sat up.
Her eyes immediately went toward the doorway.
He was gone.
Of course he was.
She didn't know why she had expected him to still be there. Adrian had his own life, his own responsibilities, and probably dozens of people who needed his attention.
She pushed herself out of bed and walked toward the small table near the window.
Then she stopped.
There was a cup sitting there.
Tea.
Still warm.
Her eyebrows lifted.
Beside it was a small piece of paper.
She picked it up.
Drink this before you go to work.
She stared at the handwriting.
“Who does he think he is?”
Yet there was no annoyance in her voice.
She picked up the cup and took a cautious sip.
Her expression changed.
It was exactly how she liked it.
Not too sweet.
Not too strong.
Warm enough to chase away the lingering cold in her body.
She lowered the cup.
“How does he know?”
That bothered her.
Not because it was unpleasant.
Because it meant Adrian had been paying attention.
She had spent years convincing herself that she didn't need anyone. She could work. She could earn her own money. She could deal with difficult days without asking anyone for help.
And yet one cup of tea had somehow made all of that confidence feel fragile.
Her phone suddenly vibrated.
She looked down.
Adrian: Don't go outside yet.
She frowned.
Her: Why?
The response arrived almost immediately.
Adrian: Because I said so.
She rolled her eyes.
Her: That's not a reason.
There was a pause.
Then the typing indicator appeared.
Adrian: The roads near your workplace are flooded.
She froze.
She immediately opened the local news.
The reports confirmed it.
Several streets had already been closed because of the heavy rainfall. Cars were struggling to move through some areas, and people were being advised to avoid unnecessary travel.
She looked back at her phone.
Her: How did you know?
The typing indicator appeared.
Then disappeared.
Appeared again.
Finally, Adrian answered.
Adrian: I checked.
She stared at those two words.
He had checked.
For her.
She walked back toward the window and pulled the curtain aside.
The rain was still falling heavily.
She remembered the previous evening.
You'd get soaked, and I'd have to dry you.
At the time, she had thought he was simply teasing her.
Now she wasn't so sure.
Her phone vibrated again.
Adrian: Stay home today. I'll handle your boss.
She immediately typed.
Her: Absolutely not.
His reply came seconds later.
Adrian: I knew you'd say that.
She narrowed her eyes.
Her: Then why did you ask?
Adrian: I didn't ask.
She stared at the screen.
Then another message appeared.
Adrian: I told you.
She couldn't help herself.
She laughed.
The sound surprised her.
It had been a long time since something as simple as a conversation had made her laugh so early in the morning.
She placed the phone against the table.
Then she noticed something else.
There was an umbrella beside the door.
She hadn't put it there.
Her expression softened.
Adrian must have left it before he went.
She picked it up.
It was new.
Expensive, judging by its weight and quality.
She sighed.
“This man…”
Her phone vibrated again.
Adrian: And don't argue about the umbrella.
She blinked.
Slowly, she typed:
Her: Are you watching me?
Three dots appeared.
Then:
Adrian: No.
Another message followed.
Adrian: I'm just starting to understand you.
She stopped.
Her fingers remained above the screen.
For some reason, those words affected her more than any compliment could have.
He wasn't saying she was helpless.
He wasn't saying she needed him.
He was saying that he had been paying attention.
And perhaps that was what frightened her most.
She had spent years being invisible to everyone around her.
Now someone was looking closely enough to notice when she was cold, when she was tired, and when she was pretending that everything was fine.
She took another sip of tea.
It had begun to cool.
Still, she smiled.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
But for the first time in a long while, she didn't feel like she had to face it alone.
She carried the cup toward the kitchen, intending to wash it.
Then she stopped.
The thought of washing away the evidence of Adrian's visit suddenly felt strangely wrong.
She set the cup beside the sink instead.
Her phone rang.
She expected Adrian.
It wasn't him.
It was her editor.
She hesitated before answering.
“Hello?”
“Are you already on your way?”
She glanced toward the window.
“No. The roads are flooded.”
There was a sigh on the other end.
“That's what I was calling about. We're working from home today.”
She blinked.
“Really?”
“Yes. Did you think we'd expect everyone to drive through that?”
She looked at the umbrella.
Then at Adrian's message.
A tiny smile appeared on her lips.
“No,” she said quietly. “I suppose not.”
After the call ended, she walked toward the couch.
She should have been relieved.
Instead, she found herself thinking about him again.
Adrian had always seemed distant whenever she had seen him before. He was the kind of man who walked into a room and immediately made everyone aware of his presence. He rarely explained himself, and he never seemed particularly concerned about whether people understood him.
Yet yesterday, when she had returned home soaked from the rain, he had immediately noticed.
Not her work.
Not her appearance.
Not whether she had accomplished anything.
He had noticed that she was cold.
That small detail wouldn't leave her alone.
She sat down and pulled a blanket over her legs.
Another message appeared.
Adrian: Did you eat?
She stared at it.
She typed:
Her: Yes.
Then deleted it.
She hadn't eaten.
She typed again.
Her: I'm about to.
His response was immediate.
Adrian: Good.
She smiled.
Her: You sound like my father.
There was a long pause.
Then:
Adrian: Your father probably worries about you too.
Her smile faded slightly.
She didn't know what to say to that.
Nobody had talked about her father with her in a long time.
She looked down at the cup of tea.
For years, she had believed that being independent meant never allowing anyone to take care of her.
Maybe she had misunderstood.
Maybe independence wasn't refusing help.
Maybe it was knowing that she could stand on her own—and still choosing to let someone stand beside her.
She picked up her phone.
Her: Thank you.
Adrian didn't answer immediately.
When he finally did, there were only four words.
Adrian: You don't have to.
She read them twice.
Then she smiled.
Outside, the rain continued to fall.
But somehow, the morning didn't feel nearly as cold anymore.
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