Rainy Days

Chapter One

The rain was Amaya's favourite thing about the city. On days when the clouds rolled in thick and grey, draping the streets in mist, she found a kind of peace she couldn't get anywhere else. The constant pressure of deadlines, assignments, and trying to keep up with the relentless pace of college life seemed to fade away when the rain fell. It was like the world slowed down just for a moment, and she could breathe again.

This morning, as she stood by the window of her tiny dorm room, watching droplets of rain race down the glass, Amaya knew exactly where she needed to be: The Drip.

The café was just a short walk from campus, tucked away between a bookshop and an old record store. It wasn't much to look at from the outside—worn brick and a faded green awning—but inside, it was her sanctuary. A place where the smell of freshly brewed coffee mixed with the sound of light jazz playing softly in the background. A place where no one expected anything from her, and she could just be.

She grabbed her favourite oversized sweater, pulled it over her head, and slipped into her boots. The rain had picked up, and she knew by the time she made it to the café, she'd be damp, if not soaked. But that was part of the charm. Amaya loved the feeling of stepping into the warmth of The Drip, her cheeks flushed from the cold rain, and settling into her usual spot by the window.

With her umbrella clutched tightly in one hand and her bag slung over her shoulder, Amaya set off through the rain-soaked streets. She liked the way the city transformed when it rained. The crowds thinned out, the usual noise of traffic and construction softened, and everything seemed muted, as though wrapped in a comforting blanket of sound.

By the time she reached The Drip, her hair was damp, strands of it sticking to her forehead. She shook out her umbrella before stepping inside, the warmth of the café instantly enveloping her. The door chimed softly as it closed behind her, and she felt a familiar sense of relief wash over her. The smell of coffee, pastries, and rain-soaked clothes filled the air. She made her way to the counter, exchanging a smile with Milo, the barista who worked the morning shifts.

"The usual?" he asked, already reaching for a cup.

Amaya nodded, her smile widening. "Please."

Her usual—a caramel latte with a dash of cinnamon—was one of the few indulgences she allowed herself. It was a small comfort in the midst of her otherwise hectic life. As Ben prepared her drink, she scanned the café. The familiar sight of students huddled over laptops, couples sharing quiet conversations, and solo patrons lost in books greeted her.

Her spot—right by the large window that overlooked the rain-soaked street—was empty. Perfect.

With her drink in hand, she made her way over to the table, slipping into the worn leather chair that had become her chair. She took a sip of her latte, savouring the warmth that spread through her as the rain drummed softly against the window.

This was her routine, her sanctuary. On rainy days, Amaya came here to escape. She'd bring a book, or sometimes her journal, and let the world fall away for a little while. It was the only time she allowed herself to forget about the mounting pile of coursework, the pressures from her parents to do well in school, and the gnawing feeling that she wasn't quite living up to the expectations set for her.

In here, none of that mattered.

She pulled out her journal and began to write, her pen gliding smoothly across the page. She didn't always know what to write about, but once she started, the words seemed to pour out. Thoughts about her day, about how much she missed the simplicity of high school, about her uncertainty for the future—all of it found its way onto the paper. The rain outside seemed to match her mood, soothing and steady, a perfect companion to her thoughts.

The café wasn't full, but there was a constant hum of conversation around her, a backdrop that she found oddly comforting. It made her feel connected without requiring her to participate, and that was exactly what she needed.

Lost in her thoughts, Amaya didn't notice the door open, nor did she hear the sound of someone rushing in, their footsteps heavy on the wooden floor. It wasn't until she glanced up, looking out the window, that she felt someone bump into her table. Her coffee wobbled dangerously, and before she could react, she found herself face to face with a drenched figure.

"Sorry, I didn't see—" she started, but her words trailed off as she took in the sight of him.

He was completely soaked, water dripping from his dark hair, down his jacket, and pooling on the floor beneath him. His grey eyes, wide and apologetic, met hers, and for a moment, neither of them said anything. Amaya blinked, her mind catching up to the situation. She opened her mouth to say something, but before she could, he gave a small, crooked smile.

"No, no, it's my fault. I was just trying to get out of the rain." His voice was low, with a hint of amusement, as if he found the whole situation more funny than awkward.

Amaya stood quickly, grabbing a few napkins from the table and offering them to him. "Here, you're soaked," she said, her cheeks flushing in embarrassment.

He chuckled softly, accepting the napkins but making no real effort to dry himself. "Thanks, but I think it's a lost cause," he said, glancing down at his drenched clothes.

Amaya smiled, despite herself. There was something about his casual demeanour that put her at ease. "It's really coming down out there, huh?"

"Yeah," he replied, running a hand through his wet hair, slicking it back. "I didn't think it would rain this hard when I left this morning."

The awkwardness began to lift, and Amaya couldn't help but feel curious about him. There was something almost... intriguing about this stranger who seemed so at ease despite being completely soaked.

Before she could ask him anything, Milo appeared behind the counter, calling out, "Auryn, your order's ready!"

The drenched stranger—Auryn—gave her a small wave before heading to the counter, leaving Amaya standing there, her heart inexplicably racing. She watched as he collected his coffee, gave Milo a nod, and then disappeared into the back corner of the café, as though nothing unusual had just happened.

Amaya sank back into her chair, her mind buzzing with questions. She had never seen him before—Auryn—but something about him stuck with her.