Beneath the Moonlit Rain

Part 3: The Cottage

The rain didn't let up as Lila trudged back to the small cottage she had rented on the outskirts of town. The path, now slick with mud, was illuminated only by the faint glow of the storm-muted moon. She wrapped her jacket tighter around herself, wishing she'd thought to bring an umbrella. But the truth was, she didn't mind the rain. It had a way of washing away the noise in her head, leaving behind a raw kind of clarity.

The cottage came into view, its weathered stone walls and small windows glowing with the light she'd left on before heading out. It was tiny, tucked between the trees like a forgotten secret, but it was hers for now. A place where she could be alone, where no one would ask questions she wasn't ready to answer.

She stepped inside, the warmth of the room enveloping her instantly. The small fireplace in the corner was still crackling, the flames casting soft shadows on the wooden walls. She kicked off her wet boots by the door and shrugged out of her jacket, draping it over a chair to dry.

The cottage wasn't much a single bedroom, a cramped kitchen, and a living space that barely fit the worn-out sofa and coffee table. But it was enough. It was quiet. And right now, that was all she needed.

She sank onto the sofa, her body heavy with the weight of the day. Her thoughts kept drifting back to the café, to the stranger who had somehow managed to crack open a part of her she'd kept locked away for so long. Noah. There was something about him, something she couldn't quite put into words. It wasn't just the way he looked at her, or the quiet strength in his voice. It was the way he seemed to understand her, even though they were practically strangers.

She shook her head, trying to push the thoughts away. She had come back to this town to escape, not to get tangled up in someone else's life. Whatever connection she'd felt in the café, it didn't matter. It couldn't matter.

Still, her gaze drifted toward the easel set up by the window. The canvas on it was blank, untouched since the day she'd arrived. She'd brought her paints with her, hoping the change of scenery would spark something, anything. But every time she picked up a brush, she froze. The colors didn't flow the way they used to. The images in her head refused to take shape.

Lila stood and walked over to the window, staring out at the storm. The rain lashed against the glass, the sound rhythmic and soothing. She rested her forehead against the cool pane, closing her eyes as memories of her past began to surface the life she'd left behind, the people she'd lost.

Her fingers brushed against the small pendant she wore around her neck, the one her mother had given her years ago. It was a simple thing, a silver crescent moon on a thin chain, but it was one of the few possessions she'd held onto through everything. A reminder of a time when things had been simpler, when she'd believed in magic and wishes and the idea that everything happened for a reason.

A knock at the door shattered her thoughts.

Lila turned, startled. She wasn't expecting anyone. The knock came again, louder this time, echoing in the small space. Her heart raced as she moved toward the door, her bare feet silent on the wooden floor. She peered through the small peephole, her breath catching when she saw who it was.

Noah.

She hesitated for a moment before unlocking the door and pulling it open. He stood there, rain-soaked and windblown, his dark hair plastered to his forehead. His leather jacket glistened with water, and his hands were shoved deep into his pockets.

"I'm sorry to drop by like this," he said, his voice low, almost apologetic. "Liam told me where you were staying. I just... wanted to make sure you got home safe."

Lila stared at him, unsure how to respond. She hadn't expected to see him again, not tonight. Maybe not ever. But now, here he was, standing on her doorstep in the middle of a storm, looking at her with an intensity that made her feel like the ground beneath her feet was shifting.

"I'm fine," she said finally, her voice softer than she intended. "You didn't have to come all the way out here."

Noah shrugged, his expression unreadable. "I know. But I wanted to."

The simplicity of his words took her off guard. There was no pretense, no hidden agenda. Just honesty. It was disarming in a way she wasn't used to.

"Do you want to come in?" she asked before she could stop herself.

Noah hesitated, glancing back at the storm. "I don't want to intrude."

"You're already here," Lila said with a small smile, stepping aside to let him in.

He stepped inside, bringing with him the smell of rain and the faint scent of something earthy, like cedar and leather. He glanced around the cottage, his gaze lingering on the fireplace, the easel by the window, the books stacked haphazardly on the coffee table.

"Nice place," he said, his voice warm. "It suits you."

Lila didn't know why, but the comment made her chest tighten. She motioned toward the sofa. "You can sit. I'll grab you a towel."

She disappeared into the bathroom, her mind racing. What was he doing here? Why had he come? And why did she feel so unsteady, like her carefully constructed walls were crumbling just by being near him?

When she returned, Noah was standing by the window, staring at the blank canvas on the easel. He turned when he heard her, a small smile tugging at his lips.

"You paint?" he asked, accepting the towel she handed him.

"I try," she said, wrapping her arms around herself. "I haven't been able to lately."

Noah nodded, his expression thoughtful. "Sometimes it's like that. You've got to wait until it feels right again."

Lila didn't respond. Instead, she moved to the fireplace, adding another log to the flames. The warmth spread through the room, but it did little to calm the unease in her chest.

"I didn't mean to intrude," Noah said after a moment, his voice softer now. "I just... wanted to make sure you were okay. I know what it's like to feel stuck. To want to run but not know where you're running to."

Lila looked at him, her heart aching at the vulnerability in his words. She didn't know why, but she believed him. She could see it in his eyes the same kind of restlessness, the same scars hidden beneath the surface.

"Thank you," she said, her voice barely above a whisper.

For a moment, they stood in silence, the storm raging outside, the fire crackling softly in the hearth. And in that moment, Lila realized something she hadn't felt in a long time.

She wasn't alone anymore.