When the rain found us

CHAPTER ONE Kamsy tugged her sleeves down, avoiding eye contact as the girls around her squealed over the latest romantic drama. “Can you believe she had her first kiss at fifteen?” “I had mine at twelve. I can’t imagine being twenty and still untouched!” She swallowed hard. If they knew the truth, they’d probably laugh her out of the room. Twenty-three. Never kissed. Never loved. Never wanted. She bit her lip, forcing a smile, nodding along as if she had juicy stories of her own. But deep down, a familiar ache gnawed at her — the ache of never being chosen. Why? She couldn't fathom. She was pretty, with a voice that people often complimented. Granted, she was short, but that couldn’t be the reason… Could it? She added a word or two here and there so they wouldn’t suspect. So they wouldn’t label her as “one of those girls.” But the truth was — she was. And pretending otherwise? It was starting to tear her apart. Kamsy wanted to belong. To have her own juicy story. To laugh and say, “My first kiss? Oh, it was messy but magical.” But every time she tried to put herself out there, it backfired — awkward silences, clumsy words, or worse, pitying looks. Eventually, she stopped trying. Maybe romance just isn’t cut out for me, she thought. That night, lying in bed, her mind replayed every moment from that evening. The laughter. The conversations. The silence in her chest. A wave of self-pity washed over her. How could she admit to anyone that at her age, she’d never experienced so much as a kiss? Was she really that pathetic? With nothing else to do — and no one to confide in — she closed her eyes and whispered into the dark. “God… I know I’m not the purest soul, but I haven’t done anything so bad to deserve this life. I want to feel loved. I want to be hugged. Kissed. To fall asleep knowing I mean something to someone. Amen.” And with that, Kamsy slowly drifted off to sleep — wondering if tomorrow would be just like today… or finally different. Kamsy woke up the next day with an unusual burst of energy. She smiled to herself, stretching like a cat under her blanket. She had dreamt that she got married to a rich, handsome man who adored her beyond reason. If only dreams came true... she thought wistfully. She got dressed, ate a light breakfast, and left for work — a small but cosy wine shop just down the street. Kamsy worked there as a salesperson, and though it wasn't glamorous, she loved the job. Customers often depended on her to recommend wines that paired best with meals or moods. It made her feel needed — and more than anything, she desperately wanted to feel like she mattered. She arrived at the shop later than usual. Her colleagues were already cleaning, which was a rare sight — especially Sarah, who was notorious for arriving thirty minutes late. Today, Sarah had beaten her to work. “Hello, Sarah,” Kamsy greeted, trying not to sound too awkward. Sarah shot her a quick look. “You’re awfully late today. And good morning to you too,” she replied with a sarcastic smile. Kamsy sighed inwardly. Sarah could be a pain — moody one moment, chatty the next. Ignoring her snark, Kamsy grabbed a duster and joined in the cleaning. Later in the afternoon, just past two, Kamsy spotted a sleek black car pulling up in front of the store. Two men stepped out — tall, well-dressed, confident. Even from a distance, she could tell: they weren’t ordinary customers. Office guys, probably upper management, she guessed. She’d seen their type before — power suits, expensive watches, air of superiority. They always acted like the world belonged to them. Already bracing herself for their arrogance, she put on her "professional mask" — polite but distant. But when the men walked in, something unexpected happened. “Hello, can I help you?” she asked, forcing a sweet smile. Yes, we’re looking for Moët & Chandon,” the shorter one said. “Could you please pack five bottles for us?” He spoke politely, even kindly. She blinked. That wasn’t the kind of tone she was expecting from someone in a thousand-dollar suit. The taller man hadn’t looked up since they entered. He stood silently, eyes glued to his phone. Kamsy stole a glance at him, curious. Was he as charming as his friend? Did he have the same gentle manner? She carefully packed the bottles, handing them over to the shorter man — when the tall one finally looked up and spoke. Her breath caught. He was beautiful. Sharp cheekbones. Deep, intense eyes. Clean-cut hair and a jawline sculpted like it belonged in a cologne ad. But it wasn’t just his looks — his voice was low, smooth, and somehow… devastating. Kamsy froze. Her knees felt like jelly. She couldn’t hear a word he said. He frowned slightly. “Excuse me?” he repeated, politely. “S-sorry. Could you say that again?” she asked, forcing her voice to work. “Two bottles of champagne, please.” “O-of course. Coming right up.” She composed herself and handed over the bottles. The shorter man paid, they exchanged a brief thank-you, and just like that — they left. Kamsy watched them walk out the door, a strange emptiness settling in her chest. I’ll probably never see him again, she thought with a sting of sadness. What was this feeling? A sense of loss? Longing? That didn’t make sense — she didn’t even know his name. Still lost in thought, she turned toward the mirror behind the counter and gasped. “Oh no…” There was dust all over her face — a thin layer from the morning’s cleaning spree. She looked like a wreck. No wonder he barely looked at her. In his eyes, she must have been the dusty girl from the wine shop. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment. But even as she tried to laugh it off, something in her heart shifted. He may not remember her — but she would remember him. That brief glance had done something to her. Stirred something awake. She didn’t know what had changed. But something had.