Rain on Glass

The only thing in his ears is the sound of the rain beating down on the windshield and the engine idling as he sits in the quiet.

He wants to think about how Charlotte had been faking it for over 2 years, he knows he has to think about it at some point but he's numb, sitting in the suit that cost him far too much to wear for nothing.

The traffic on the M60 is moving slowly, as expected for 5pm. The forecast for rain was accurate; after all this city is famous for its rain. His car idles as he watches a raindrop trail down, before clicking the windshield wiper once, wiping away the water on the window.

He glances to his left, and sees a little white car next to his. The driver is a woman with brown hair tied scruffily into a knot on her head, with blue wrinkled scrubs. Her hands grip the steering wheel so tightly that he can see how white they are from here.

She looks tired. Even through the rain glittering on the glass, he can see how exhausted she looks. It's the look of someone that loves their job, even if it's soul-crushing.

This is the woman Charlotte had presented herself as; a hard-working, honest woman, that would save lives without a second thought. Finding out she was not that woman was devastating.

He shakes the thought away, letting the words wipe away with the swing of his windshield wiper.

He glances again, trying to see her a little more clearly without making it look like he's staring.

Her profile is beautiful from what he can see. Even with the tired lines and the pale skin from long hours of working in what he can only presume to be a hospital, she's breath-taking.

His eyes move as she glances in his direction.

This shift had been hell for her. Her small car has a blinking light that she's been ignoring for a week. She can't afford to fix it, not right now.

This line is moving so slowly, the rain a rhythmic battering against the roof of her car, the tinny sound filling the quiet space, alongside the tick tick tick of her engine cooling down.

The beeping of the machinery in the hospital is still ringing in her ears; Emergency codes, the demanding man in bed 4, the old woman who was quiet in bed 7 and chatter from the nurses station...

Then there was the 17 year old boy.

The one who'd been taken out while riding his new motorbike. He'd come in on a stretcher, barely conscious, a road rash covering his left arm.

It'd been completely the driver's fault according to the police; not paying attention to the road, eyes on his phone, texting about something trivial. The man had suffered mild whiplash, but that poor 17 year old?

He'd been intubated after immediate life saving measures had been done. He'd blessedly stabilised, and is currently sitting in the ICU, in a chemically induced coma. It was all they could do to try and keep him stable for long periods. She can still hear the boy's mother's tears in her ears, a perpetual sound that cuts through any hint of the rain battering her windshield.

Her hands grip the steering wheel tighter as she remembers the alarms going off when he was brought by ambulance.

The traffic goes still again, and she feels the sensation of being watched. She turns her head, and notices the man in the sleek black car, one hand on the steering wheel with a relaxed posture, wearing a suit that looks too... expensive for casual workwear.

He reminds her instantly of him. Liam. Her heart clenches at the uncanny resemblance between this beautiful stranger and that beautiful memory.

She'd loved Liam before Allen had come in like a damned hurricane and destroyed her life bit at a time, driving the people the most important to her away.

She's away from him now, a small relief for sure, but this man in the car across from her....

As she's looking, his head turns. She snaps her eyes away, staring at the rain on the windshield. She taps the wiper switch, swooshing the water off the window.

He catches her looking before she turns away. Her gaze was the same as his, that look on her face. It looked like she wanted to get closer, to see if he looked real, beyond the rain coating the windows in rolling beads of motion.

He surreptitiously rolls his side window down, clearing it of the rain, hoping to see her better. He looks over her face, illuminated by the dash in her car and the brake light of the car in front of her. The traffic continues moving slowly and he looks back in her direction once he's inched forward.

She's looking at him again, her own window now somewhat clear of rain. He lifts his hand before he tilts his head, and arranges his face in a way that asks if she's okay.

She sighs, bows her head, and sags her shoulders.

Ouch. That's the universal sign of "I've had a shit day".

He tries to look sympathetic. She smiles at his attempt. He thinks for a moment, then pulls out his phone.

He holds it up and points to it. Brazen, but fuck it, worth a try. He wants to see if she'll take him up on it. He's never done anything like this but with that response and how dejected she looks, he just wants to know why she responded like that.

She then rummages, turning to face her centre console, lifts her own phone and waves it at the window.

He smiles, the first actual smile he's had all day, since he found out from the maid of honour that Charlotte didn't want to marry him for love; she was about to rinse him for everything he had.

The smile she returns is fleeting but it untwists something in his chest he's been holding since this morning, since he saw the texts, the photos.

Traffic starts to move, the rain a pattering backdrop now that he has the attention of the woman in the car next to him.

He's made some kind of connection, as tiny as it may be and he's genuinely curious.

She laughs after he puts his phone down, unable to contain her smile. The traffic is moving a little faster now, and soon, this handsome stranger will vanish, and be just like Liam. Fleeting, but gone.

She doesn't want that, but this is a motorway. How were they supposed to communicate? This troubles her as the traffic speeds up a little further, but not enough to separate them yet.

She looks back at him, a small glance and he points. Her eyes follow his finger, and she sees the services sign. He pulls in front of her suddenly, putting his hazard lights on for a second, before indicating left, to pull off into the nearby Service Station.

He answered her question without knowing she asked it.

She doesn't know why, but... she clicks her indicator, and follows the sleek black car through the glimmering rain, praying that she's not making a huge mistake.