I'm home, Mom," said Danna as she entered the house. There was a small hall, a kitchen, a bedroom that belonged to their mother, and a bathroom on the ground floor. Upstairs, there were two bedrooms—one for Danna and her sister Eva, who was in college, and the other for Patrick, their younger brother who was still in high school. It was a small house, but it held precious memories of their late father.
"Oh, my dear! How are you, and how was your day at school?" asked Mom, smiling warmly at her.
"I'm fine, Mom. My day was good," replied Danna as she picked an apple from the kitchen to eat.
"Sis! Guess what—I'm in a singing competition!" Eva said excitedly.
"Congrats!" Danna said with a smile.
"Where's Patrick, Mom?" Danna asked, sounding curious.
"He's sleeping in his room. He was tired after coming back from school," Mom replied.
"Both of you, get some rest. You have to go to your part-time job later," said Mom, her voice filled with care.
"Okay, Mom," both of them replied as they headed upstairs to their room.
"WHERE IS MY PHONE, MOM?" Eva suddenly screamed from upstairs, panicking as she realized she was getting late for work.
"It's in the drawer, dear," Mom responded calmly.
"I'm waiting for her outside! Tell her to come fast or we'll be late for work!" Danna called out while picking up her handbag.
Mom nodded in response.
"Let's go!" said Eva as she stepped outside. She was wearing a black shirt and jeans, her hair tied up in a bun. Danna followed behind, dressed in a green long-sleeve blouse and black pants, her hair tied back in her usual ponytail. They soon arrived in front of the café where they worked—Sweet Coffee. Sweet Coffee was a small but charming corner café nestled between a flower shop and a bookstore. Its walls were painted a rich, chocolatey brown, with soft yellow fairy lights hanging across the ceiling like stars. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, warm cinnamon, and buttery croissants lingered in the air like a comforting hug.
Wooden tables, each with a tiny vase of fresh flowers, were arranged neatly around the space. A couple of cozy booths lined the windows, perfect for quiet readers or couples sharing a slice of cheesecake. The counter, made of polished oak, showcased a glass display filled with pastries—fluffy muffins, pastel macarons, and creamy éclairs that practically begged to be eaten.
In the corner, there was a small bulletin board filled with colorful notes from customers, local event flyers, and the occasional doodle from a bored kid. Soft acoustic music played in the background, just loud enough to fill the silence without drowning out conversations.
Danna and Eva knew the café like the backs of their hands—every sticky note behind the counter, every regular customer's favorite drink, and even which stool creaked the loudest.
"Hello, Mr. Charles," said Danna as she stepped into the café, the bell above the door jingling softly behind her.
"Hello!" added Eva, walking in right after her.
"Hello, beautiful sisters!" Mr. Charles greeted warmly from his usual corner seat, a half-empty coffee cup in front of him.
"Where's Mrs. Charles today?" Danna asked with a smile, already knowing the answer but loving the routine of it.
"She's at home with the kids today," he replied, smiling just as warmly.
Outside, the sky was painted in heavy shades of gray. Clouds hung low, promising rain—and soon enough, the promise was fulfilled. Within minutes, soft raindrops turned into a steady pour, tapping rhythmically against the café windows like a lullaby.
With not many customers coming in due to the downpour, the café felt unusually quiet.
Danna took the chance to slip away from behind the counter and settled into the window seat—her favorite spot. From there, she could see the rain dancing on the pavement, the droplets chasing each other down the glass. The world outside looked blurred and dreamy, like a watercolor painting slowly coming to life. She closed her eyes, letting the soft patter of the rain fill the silence. And, like every time it rained, her heart drifted to the one person she always missed the most.
"Dad…" Danna whispered, her voice barely above a breath.
She closed her eyes, letting the rhythm of the rain carry her away. And then… she was there again.
Back in the garden. Back in that moment. It had been raining—just like today. The soft summer kind, where the sky weeps gently and the world smells like wet earth and childhood.
"My baby! Come on, let's play!" her dad had called out, laughing as he ran barefoot through the puddles. His arms were open wide, soaked shirt clinging to him, hair wet and messy—but his smile? It was everything.
Little Danna, maybe eight or nine, squealed in delight, splashing through the muddy ground in her pink rain boots. "Catch me, Daddy!" she shouted, twirling and dodging as he chased after her.
Eva, a little smaller back then, was giggling behind them, holding her tiny umbrella way too big for her and absolutely failing to stay dry—but not even caring.
They had jumped in puddles, run in circles, screamed and laughed like the whole world was theirs and the rain was just part of the fun.
Back then… the rain didn't feel sad.
It felt like love.
"Here's your coffee, sis," said Eva gently as she sat down next to Danna.
Danna quickly brushed away the tears from her eyes, trying to compose herself, but Eva wasn't fooled.
"I know you're missing Dad again," Eva said softly. "Don't try to hide it from me."
Danna let out a shaky breath. "Rain… it always reminds me of him," she said, her voice breaking.
Eva looked at her sister—really looked—and saw the pain swimming in her eyes. Without another word, she wrapped her arms around Danna and pulled her into a tight hug.
"I miss him too, sis," Eva whispered.
Danna nodded against her shoulder, tears quietly slipping down her cheeks. "But he's in a better place now… in heaven," she murmured, trying to believe it.
"I know, sis," Eva replied. "I know."
There was a pause—quiet, heavy with love and longing.
"I just miss him, Eva," Danna said again, her voice barely a whisper.
Eva held her tighter, both of them sitting there by the rain-speckled window, the warmth of the coffee between them and the ache of their shared memory in the air.
_______________________________________________________________________________
It was raining.
Not a storm, not a drizzle—just that soft, steady kind of rain that soaks into everything, even your soul. The sky was a dull gray, heavy with clouds, and the world around them felt quiet, like even nature was grieving.
Aiden and Garson sat side by side on an old wooden bench near the pond. The bench creaked slightly beneath them, worn smooth by time and memories. Drops of rain tapped gently on their shoulders, soaking into their jackets, but neither of them seemed to care.
The pond stretched out in front of them like a sheet of glass, its surface disturbed only by the ripple of raindrops. Tall reeds lined the edge, swaying gently in the breeze. A few ducks huddled near the far end; feathers fluffed against the chill.
The trees around the pond stood tall and solemn, their leaves dripping with rain, creating a soft rustling sound that filled the silence.
"He was a charming guy, right?" Aiden said, voice breaking like the sky above them.
"Yeah… he was," Garson replied, a tear sliding down his cheek, mixing with the rain. A fragile smile flickered across his face, gone as quickly as it came.
"This place…" Aiden looked out across the water. "We used to come here every day after school. And this rain—it was his favorite."
Garson's eyes glazed with memory. "Mike wasn't just our best friend, Aiden. He was our brother."
Aiden's hands trembled slightly as he clasped them in his lap.
"Remember the promise we made?" Garson said quietly. "That we'd always stay together?"
Aiden nodded slowly, unable to speak.
"But he backed out…" Garson's voice cracked. "He left too early."
The rain fell harder for a moment, as if the sky agreed. They sat there, soaked and silent, wrapped in grief and memory, while the pond rippled and the world mourned with them. "Sometimes the rain isn't just water falling from the sky—it's a river carrying our past, our pain, and the moments we wish could stay."