Chapter 2: Silent Rain and Quiet Steps

The morning began with a gentle drizzle, the kind of rain that seemed hesitant to fall but persistent enough to blur the world outside the classroom windows. Tiny droplets meandered down the glass in slow, winding paths, distorting the view of the cherry blossoms outside into soft, trembling shapes of pink and white.

Inside, the classroom hummed with the low murmur of students settling into their seats. Voices overlapped in excited chatter about the upcoming school festival, weekend plans, and new classes. But to _, the noise was nothing more than background static—something distant, muffled, as if he were submerged underwater and only catching faint echoes.

He sat near the back, by the window, just like always, his gaze drifting past the falling rain instead of focusing on the teacher’s words. The classroom felt cramped with energy, but he remained still, a solitary island amid the tide of youthful exuberance.

Across the aisle, she watched him again. The quiet boy who moved like a shadow, always present but never quite part of anything. Her curiosity had grown little by little since the first day, but she respected his silence. She wondered what thoughts hid behind those dark, contemplative eyes.

The bell rang, signaling the start of lunch break, and the classroom slowly emptied. Students burst out into the hallways, laughter and conversation rising with the sound of the rain tapping steadily on the windows. She gathered her things and glanced toward _, who gathered his belongings with calm precision.

Without quite knowing why, she decided to follow him. There was a strange pull, a desire to close the distance between their quiet worlds.

They walked down the crowded hall together but in silence. The rain outside had turned heavier, drumming on the rooftop like a slow heartbeat. Their footsteps echoed faintly through the wet corridors.

Outside, the sky was an endless sheet of gray, clouds heavy with promise. Students opened umbrellas of every color and pattern, painting the sidewalks with splashes of brightness. Yet _ stood there, umbrella forgotten in his bag, as usual.

She watched him as he stared at the sky, shoulders slightly hunched, face expressionless but eyes betraying a distant weight. She hesitated, then stepped forward.

“Forgot your umbrella again?” she asked softly, voice barely above the rain’s whisper.

He blinked, startled, and then gave a small, almost imperceptible nod.

Without thinking too much, she reached into her bag and pulled out a small, plain umbrella — the one she usually carried around. It was worn at the edges, a bit faded, but still sturdy.

“Here. You can share mine,” she offered, holding it out with a tentative smile.

For a moment, _ looked down at the offered umbrella, then back at her face. His expression flickered with surprise, hesitation, and then something unreadable. Slowly, he accepted, stepping under the shelter she provided.

The two of them moved together down the street, the umbrella barely big enough to cover them both. They walked side by side, the silence between them comfortable but heavy with unspoken thoughts.

She stole a glance at him now and then. His eyes seemed distant, filled with a sadness that weighed more than just the solitude of a rainy day. But he didn’t speak, and she didn’t press.

They passed familiar sights — the corner convenience store where she sometimes bought snacks, the old library with its ivy-covered walls, the narrow alleyways where sunlight rarely reached. The town felt alive and vibrant around them, but for _, it was like moving through a faded dream.

At a small park, the rain softened to a mist, and cherry blossom petals floated gently to the ground, sticking to the wet pavement like fragile memories. The quiet girl under the umbrella noticed his gaze linger on the petals. For a fleeting second, the tension in his shoulders eased.

“Do you like the rain?” she asked softly, her voice a gentle ripple breaking the stillness.

He was silent for a moment, then gave a faint shrug. “It’s… peaceful.”

She smiled, a little brighter this time. “Me too.”

The walk continued, the rain lessening until it was just a soft drizzle. They reached the edge of the neighborhood, where their paths diverged.

“Thanks,” he said quietly as he looked down.

“For what?” she asked, surprised.

“For the umbrella,” he answered simply.

She nodded, not knowing what else to say.

As they parted ways, she watched him walk away, his figure blending into the misty afternoon. She felt a quiet ache she didn’t quite understand — a wish to reach past the walls he kept so firmly closed.

And somewhere deep inside, she knew this was only the beginning.