The elevator doors opened. The rain had stopped. And there he was, leaning against a lamppost, dripping wet, holding a single red tulip—her favorite.
Don’t you feel it too?
"You came," he said, voice rough.
Tonight, he’d shown up at her apartment unannounced. She’d seen him from her window—standing in the rain, not moving, just staring up at her light. She didn’t go down. Instead, she watched until the rain soaked through his shirt, until his silhouette looked less like a man and more like a ghost of the one she’d fallen for.
Behind them, a car passed, headlights sweeping across the wet pavement. For a moment, the world was silent. Then he smiled—that slow, dangerous smile—and she knew she was already lost.
