Whispers of Rain..
It was a gloomy afternoon. A thin veil of mist hung over the city, making everything appear dull and lifeless. Adrian stood by the tall window of his office, peering out at the grey skyline. The steady patter of raindrops blurred the glass, mirroring the murkiness in his heart. Rain. Again.
He sighed deeply, running a hand through his already dishevelled hair. “It’s like the clouds know how I feel,” he murmured. The overcast skies didn’t bother him because of the weather—they bothered him because they reminded him of what he’d lost. Peace. Joy. Himself.
“I don’t like it here,” he whispered under his breath, his eyes still glued to the drenched cityscape. “But Christine… she’s happy. Her college, her friends, her life—they’re all here. I can’t take that away from her. This city might have taken everything from me, but I can’t let it take her happiness too.”
He turned around slowly, dragging himself back to his desk, when a knock on the door interrupted his train of thought.
“Come in,” he called out, his voice heavy with fatigue.
The door opened with a light creak, and in popped Edmund, beaming as always. “Hey, man! Sup?” he chirped, his enthusiasm unshaken by the dreary weather outside.
Adrian arched a brow at his friend’s energy. “Nothing much. What brings you here?” His tone was flat but not unfriendly.
Edmund walked in, dropping into the chair opposite Adrian’s desk. “Not again, man. Why are you always so miserable? Look outside! It’s perfect weather for a walk or coffee or… I don’t know, living?”
Adrian gave a half-hearted smile. “Yeah, and what about that mountain of work you left on your desk? And speaking of which, did you find a candidate for the new position?”
Edmund groaned dramatically, slumping in his chair. “Work, work, work! That’s all you think about. But yes, we’re interviewing people. Happy?”
“Good. Now get your ass back to work,” Adrian said, a playful glint finally breaking through his melancholy.
Edmund chuckled, standing up. “You’re impossible, man. But I’ll leave you to your brooding. Coffee later?”
“Maybe,” Adrian muttered, watching him leave. The moment the door closed, the silence settled again like a familiar old blanket. He leaned back in his chair, his thoughts slipping back into that quiet void where memories of loss, longing, and regrets lived.
Elsewhere in the city, tucked in a quiet residential colony, Eva moved swiftly through her afternoon chores. Her hands worked automatically—scrubbing dishes, folding laundry, checking the soup on the stove—all while her mind darted between errands and routines. Cassie would be home from school any minute now. Lunch was almost ready, just the vacuuming left.
She wiped her hands on a towel and walked over to the kitchen window. The rain had softened into a gentle drizzle, casting a dreamy haze over the garden. Eva leaned on the counter, inhaling the comforting scent of petrichor. There was something nostalgic about it—like memories clinging to the smell of wet soil and leaves.
Once, not too long ago, she had been a different woman. Ambitious. Driven. A university topper with dreams of a flourishing career in publishing. She had wanted to make her mark in the world. She wanted to be known. But life had other plans.
Marriage. Motherhood. A move to a quiet neighbourhood. Her dreams had slowly faded into the background as new responsibilities filled her life. She didn’t resent any of it—she loved her daughter deeply, and Blake had always been a good provider. Yet something inside her felt... unfulfilled.
Despite having everything she could practically ask for—a home, a child, stability—there was this aching emptiness. A soft, constant yearning that she kept buried deep inside, never voiced, never shared.
The sound of the front door opening pulled her out of her reverie.
“Mommy, I’m home!” a cheerful voice echoed through the house.
Eva smiled instantly. “Oh, you’re home, my love? How was your day?” she asked, stepping out to greet her daughter.
Cassie threw her arms around her mother before pulling back to speak animatedly. “Guess what? I finished all my lunch today. And I got so much homework! Phew! Life’s not easy,” she said, puffing out her cheeks dramatically.
Eva burst into laughter. “Oh indeed, my princess, life’s hard,” she said, playfully tapping her nose.
They sat together for a while as Cassie talked about her day, school friends, and the stories her teacher read to them. These moments, however brief, gave Eva a sense of purpose. Cassie was her whole world, and she loved her with a fierceness that surprised even herself.
Yet once her daughter was busy with her homework, Eva returned to her chores. The day drifted by like most others—routine, quiet, and uneventful. She cooked, cleaned, watered her plants, and made a mental note to visit the market tomorrow.
Her evenings, too, followed a rhythm—dinner preparation, setting the table, helping Cassie finish schoolwork, and finally waiting for Blake to come home. He’d usually return late, eat quickly, and collapse in front of the television or bed, barely acknowledging her presence.
It had been ten years of marriage, and somewhere along the way, Blake had stopped seeing her. He provided, yes. Never complained. He respected her as the mother of his child. But love? Affection? Warmth? Those had slowly disappeared like mist on a sunny day.
Eva didn’t want riches. She didn’t want diamonds or exotic vacations. What she longed for was far simpler—a quiet evening with her husband by her side, holding hands as they stared out at the stars. A warm hug while they sipped tea on the couch. A kiss that reminded her she was still loved, still desired.
Was it too much to ask?
She did everything she could to keep the home running smoothly—took care of Cassie, supported Blake in his work, and kept the house spotless. She had buried her dreams for the sake of her family. And yet, what she craved the most—a moment of intimacy, a flicker of romance—was the one thing that always slipped through her fingers.
That night, after everyone was asleep, Eva sat by the window, watching raindrops trickle down the glass. A cool breeze fluttered the curtains, and the city lights blinked distantly in the dark. She wrapped her arms around herself and closed her eyes.
No, she wasn’t ungrateful. But her heart longed for something she couldn’t name—something tender, something real.
She whispered to the silence, “I just want to be seen again.”
