Rain On Glass
1232 Words
The city was drenched in rain by the time Amelia left the office. Sheets of water slid down the glass towers, blurring the skyline into smudges of gray and silver. The air smelled of asphalt and damp earth, of something sharp and cleansing. Her heels clicked softly against the polished lobby floor until she stepped outside and the storm swallowed the sound whole.
She hesitated under the awning, clutching her umbrella. Around her, the city pulsed with its usual rhythm, traffic lights glowed against the wet streets, taxis honked impatiently, strangers hurried past with their coats pulled tight. Everyone seemed to have somewhere urgent to be, while Amelia stood rooted in place, her pulse still unsettled from the day’s chaos.
The meeting. Seraphina Vale’s gaze. The unreadable shadow in Lucas Sterling’s eyes.
It had all been too much. She needed air. She needed something that wasn’t glass walls and sharp stares.
So instead of rushing for a cab, Amelia opened her umbrella and stepped into the rain.
Water drummed above her head, the city alive with reflections. Neon signs rippled across the wet pavement, and the air hummed with the sound of engines and laughter spilling from cafés. She walked without direction, letting the storm cool her thoughts, letting the rhythm of her footsteps drown out the echo of Lucas’s silence.
Half a block down, she slowed.
There was a flower stall nestled beneath a striped canopy, its colors muted by the rain but still bright against the gray evening. Bouquets of roses, lilies, and wildflowers spilled from tall vases, their petals glistening with droplets. A woman in a knitted scarf arranged them with gentle care, humming softly to herself.
Amelia stopped. She hadn’t bought flowers in years.
Her mother used to keep vases filled with them—roses on the dining table, daffodils on the windowsill, even daisies tucked into chipped mugs. After her family’s collapse, flowers had become a luxury, a reminder of a life they no longer had.
But tonight, staring at the little stall glowing against the rain, Amelia felt a tug in her chest. Something fragile, something human. She stepped closer.
“Evening,” the florist greeted warmly. “Roses are freshest today. Or maybe something brighter? Lilies hold well in this weather.”
Amelia’s fingers lingered over a small bouquet of white daisies mixed with soft pink roses. Simple. Unassuming. She nodded. “These.”
As the woman wrapped the flowers in brown paper, Amelia inhaled their faint, sweet scent. For the first time all day, her shoulders loosened. She clutched the bouquet close, as though it might shield her from the storm in her chest.
She turned to leave, only to stop when she saw him.
Ethan Leclair.
He stood just beyond the canopy, his suit immaculate even in the rain, though his dark hair was damp at the edges. He held no umbrella, only a faint smile that seemed out of place in the gray evening. The world moved around him, taxis splashing past, strangers brushing by, but Ethan looked as though he belonged to another rhythm entirely.
Their eyes met.
Amelia froze.
He stepped closer, his gaze flicking briefly to the flowers in her arms before settling back on her. “Daisies and roses,” he said softly. His voice was warm, threaded with curiosity rather than charm. “Not the usual choice.”
She tightened her grip on the bouquet. “I didn’t realize flowers had rules.”
Ethan’s smile widened, but only slightly. “Most people choose what they think others expect. Daisies aren’t… fashionable. But they’re honest. Simple.”
Her cheeks warmed under his steady gaze. She didn’t know how to reply, so she said nothing, adjusting the umbrella handle in her hand.
“Do you need a cab?” he asked after a beat, glancing at the rain behind her.
“I can manage,” Amelia said quickly. Too quickly.
Ethan tilted his head, studying her in a way that reminded her, uncomfortably, of Lucas, though softer, less dissecting. “I’m sure you can. Still, the storm isn’t gentle. Let me walk you to the main street, at least.”
Amelia hesitated. Politeness urged her to decline, but something about his tone, protective without pressing, warm without presuming, made refusal difficult. She gave the smallest nod.
They stepped into the rain together. Her umbrella shielded them both, though it felt strange to stand so near a man who carried the weight of wealth and headlines like a second skin. Ethan didn’t seem to notice the space between them, or maybe he chose not to. His stride was calm, unhurried, as though rain had never been an inconvenience.
“Do you always walk after work?” he asked.
“Not always,” Amelia admitted. “Just… today.”
“A good choice,” he said simply, his eyes flicking to the wet reflections of neon lights on the pavement. “The city looks different in the rain. Like it’s trying to show you its truth.”
Amelia glanced at him, startled by the remark. It wasn’t the kind of observation she expected from a man whose name belonged to boardrooms and glossy magazines. Yet his tone was quiet, thoughtful, as though he meant it.
They reached the main street where taxis lined up, their headlights hazy in the downpour. Amelia shifted her grip on the bouquet, unsure what to say.
Ethan slowed, then turned to her. “Be careful, Amelia.”
Her name on his lips startled her more than the words. She hadn’t told him, had she? Maybe he’d heard it in the office. Still, the way he said it felt… deliberate.
“Why?” she asked cautiously.
He studied her for a moment, the rain streaking behind him, the city lights framing his sharp features. “Because people like Lucas Sterling don’t test without reason.”
Amelia’s chest tightened. The words echoed the anonymous messages she had been receiving, the warnings that haunted her. For a moment, her grip on the flowers faltered.
“How do you”, she began, but Ethan shook his head gently.
“Another time,” he said. “For now… get home safe.”
A taxi pulled up beside them as if summoned by his words. Ethan opened the door, his hand brushing the edge of her umbrella as he did. She hesitated, her throat thick, before sliding into the backseat.
Through the window streaked with rain, she saw him step back onto the sidewalk, the storm blurring his outline until he looked less like a man and more like a shadow carved in light. He didn’t wave. He didn’t smile again. He simply turned and disappeared into the city.
Amelia clutched the flowers to her chest as the taxi pulled away, her pulse a steady drum against her ribs.
Lucas Sterling’s sharp silence. Seraphina Vale’s quiet gaze. Ethan Leclair’s unexpected warmth.
Threads of power, mystery, and danger weaving around her, pulling her deeper into something she couldn’t name.
She looked down at the daisies in her lap, their petals trembling with every bump in the road. Honest. Simple. Unfashionable.
She wasn’t sure if Ethan was right. She wasn’t sure of anything anymore.
But as the rain blurred the city beyond the glass, Amelia felt it in her bones: her life was no longer hers to control. The game had already begun
- Writer
