Invisible String Of Love

Rain And Resilience

The weather was moody—dreary skies cast in murky gray, a fine drizzle painting the world in soft droplets. Shallow puddles gathered around the 7-Eleven where Kaira waited, slightly tense, for Clementine. Today was the day they’d finally drive to Clemmy’s childhood town—an agreement made five days ago and circled in invisible ink ever since. Kai wasn't exactly buzzing with excitement. Meeting Clemmy’s family wasn’t the highlight—especially not her father.

Two days after they’d made the plan, they'd spent time together again, just as they’d promised. It was during that outing, under softer skies, that Clemmy let a piece of her past slip through: a glimpse soaked in fear and fury. Her father’s violence had driven her from home at just nineteen. That revelation struck Kai like a cold wind. In return, she’d opened up about her own ghosts—particularly the kidnapping that had left its mark not just on her memories, but on her view of the world, especially the men in it.

They had spoken softly while sharing ice cream on a park bench near Clemmy’s job. There’s something sacred about spilling trauma over ice cream—it makes the bitterness easier to swallow.

Now, as the rain whispered down, Kai picked at her lunch—Scotch pie and Irn-Bru, a comfort meal laced with nerves. She watched the world go by: strangers drifting past, time stretching thin. Once she finished eating, she tossed her trash in the bin and scrubbed her hands clean with lavender hand sanitizer, breathing in the floral calm.

Then she saw it—Clemmy’s car easing into the lot, gliding into a flawless parallel park. Kai didn’t wait. She grabbed her black duffel and bolted through the drizzle, the rain soaking through her clothes as if trying to hold her back.

Clemmy jumped at the knock on the window. “Jeez, Kai! Don’t knock so loud—you’re soaked! Get in! You really went out without an umbrella?” Her voice was sassy, but not angry—just laced with that familiar Clemmy concern, dressed in dramatics.

Kai rolled her eyes with a smirk and climbed in, flinging her bag into the back seat.

“Sorry... I panicked,” she muttered, trying to keep her simmering irritation out of her voice. Her jaw tightened. She hated being scolded, even gently.

“It’s cool. Just... be careful next time, okay? I don’t want you getting sick,” Clemmy said, her tone softening, her eyes flicking away. She turned back to the wheel, shoulders a little hunched, and started the car.

The car thrummed with the bass of loud pop music, filling the silence that clung to the air like fog. Clemmy let out a long sigh, her knuckles whitening around the steering wheel. She cleared her throat.

“I... I’m sorry about earlier.”

Kai glanced over, a small smile tugging at her lips. Warmth bloomed in her chest. She always appreciated when people owned their actions, even the small ones. It meant her feelings weren’t being brushed aside. It meant Clemmy cared enough to try.

“I get it,” Kai said, her voice was soft. “Sometimes everything just... caves in on you. And that’s okay.”

She reached out, resting a hand on Clemmy’s shoulder—a quiet gesture, but grounding.

“Thanks. It’s just... this whole thing is—” Clemmy faltered, her voice catching. The words lined up on her tongue: fucked up. But saying it would make it real, and she wasn’t ready to hold that weight in her mouth. So she bit her lip and reached for gentler language, as if the softness could dull the edge of what she was carrying.

“Heavy? Messy? Complicated?” Kai offered, raising an eyebrow as she pulled her hand back.

“Yes.”