The first Cup of rain

📖 Chapter 1: The First Cup of Rain

My name is Kaida Akbane.

There is nothing remarkable about me.

If you saw me on the street, you would forget me within seconds.

Not because I try to hide—but because I simply don’t stand out.

I work as a developer at a small application company.

The kind of place where people stare at screens more than they look at each other.

Lines of code fill my days.

Errors, deadlines, updates… repeat.

Every morning begins the same way.

And every night ends just as quietly.

Some people call this stability.

I call it… silence.

I’ve never been good with people.

Conversations feel like puzzles I was never taught how to solve.

Even simple greetings can feel heavier than they should.

So I stopped trying.

It’s easier that way.

No expectations.

No disappointments.

Just work.

And a life that moves forward without asking anything from me.

Still…

There are moments when I pause.

When I look at the sky between buildings, or watch strangers laughing together, and a thought quietly forms—

Is this really enough?

But I always push it away.

Because thinking too much only makes things harder.

“…A peaceful life is enough.”

That’s what I’ve decided.

That day was no different.

The office lights buzzed faintly above rows of desks.

The glow of monitors reflected in tired eyes.

I stared at my screen, fingers moving automatically across the keyboard.

Another function.

Another fix.

Another invisible contribution.

“Kaida, you done with that module?” a coworker asked without looking up.

“Yeah… I’ll send it now.”

My voice came out softer than I intended.

“Alright.”

That was the entire conversation.

Short. Efficient. Meaningless.

Just the way things always were.

By the time I stepped outside, the sky had already darkened.

Clouds had gathered quietly, unnoticed—just like everything else in my life.

I adjusted the strap of my bag and started walking.

Then—

The first drop fell.

Followed by another.

And another.

Within seconds, the rain came pouring down.

Heavy. Sudden. Unforgiving.

“…Seriously?”

I looked up, letting a few drops hit my face.

I hadn’t brought an umbrella.

Of course I hadn’t.

I never really plan ahead for things like this.

People rushed past me, opening umbrellas, covering their heads, running toward shelter.

For a moment, I didn’t move.

I just stood there, watching the rain blur the world around me.

There was something strangely calming about it.

The noise.

The rhythm.

The way it washed everything away.

But standing there forever wasn’t an option.

My eyes wandered across the street—

And stopped.

A small tea shop.

Warm light spilled gently through its windows, glowing against the gray rain.

It didn’t look fancy.

In fact, it looked old.

Quiet.

Almost forgotten.

And yet…

It felt inviting.

Before I could think too much, my feet had already started moving.

A soft bell chimed as I pushed the door open.

The sound felt… gentle.

Like stepping into a different world.

The rain faded behind me, replaced by warmth.

The scent of tea lingered in the air—subtle, calming.

For a moment, I just stood there.

Taking it in.

“Welcome.”

The voice was soft, but clear.

I turned toward the counter.

An elderly woman stood there, her expression kind, her presence calm.

“…One green tea,” I said, almost automatically.

“Of course.”

No unnecessary questions.

No forced smiles.

Just quiet understanding.

I found a seat near the window.

From there, I could still see the rain.

But it no longer felt cold.

A few minutes passed.

Then the tea arrived.

“Here you go,” the woman said, placing the cup gently in front of me.

“…Thank you.”

My fingers wrapped around the cup.

Warm.

The kind of warmth that doesn’t just touch your skin—but seeps deeper.

I took a slow sip.

It was simple.

But somehow…

It felt different.

The world outside continued moving.

Cars passed.

People hurried.

But inside the shop—

Time felt slower.

Quieter.

Safer.

I stared into the cup.

And without realizing it, my thoughts began to drift.

Work.

Life.

The future.

Or rather… the lack of it.

I’ve never had big ambitions.

No dreams of success.

No desire to stand at the top.

If anything—

I just want a life that doesn’t hurt.

A life that moves gently.

Like this moment.

Like this tea.

When the cup was empty, I remained seated for a while.

There was no reason to stay.

But no reason to leave either.

Eventually, I stood up.

“I’ll pay.”

I walked to the counter, reaching into my pocket.

And then—

I saw her.

She stood slightly behind the counter, near the shelves.

I hadn’t noticed her before.

Maybe she had been there all along.

Or maybe…

I just hadn’t been paying attention.

She didn’t speak at first.

Didn’t move much either.

Just stood there quietly.

But something about her presence felt… different.

Not loud.

Not striking.

But… steady.

Like something that had always been there.

Her eyes met mine.

For a brief moment—

Time seemed to pause.

“…The total is 120.”

Her voice was calm.

Simple.

Yet it carried something I couldn’t quite understand.

“Oh… right.”

I quickly looked away, fumbling slightly as I took out the money.

Why was I reacting like this?

It didn’t make sense.

I handed it over.

“…Thank you,” she said.

I nodded, not trusting myself to say anything properly.

And then—

I left.

The rain had softened by the time I stepped outside.

But something had changed.

Not the world.

Not the weather.

Just…

Something small.

Inside me.

As I walked home, her image lingered in my mind.

Not clearly.

Not vividly.

Just… there.

Like a quiet presence.

“…It’s nothing.”

I shook my head slightly.

Just a random encounter.

A moment that would pass like any other.

That’s how things always go.

Back in my room, I placed my bag down and lay on the bed.

The ceiling looked the same as always.

Plain. Silent.

Unchanging.

But my thoughts didn’t settle as easily.

For some reason—

That small tea shop remained in my mind.

The warmth.

The silence.

And…

Her.

“…Focus on work.”

I turned to the side, closing my eyes.

That’s what matters.

That’s what always matters.

Still—

As sleep slowly pulled me under—

One quiet thought remained.

Maybe…

I’ll go there again.