Rabi adored summer days. They meant a trip to the province, a chance to escape the city and reconnect with her roots. Every year since childhood, Aunt Loren whisked her away, creating a tradition Rabi cherished. The province became her haven. "Spending summers here is my therapy," she'd declare.
Here, she learned the rhythm of rural life: the feel of cool mud cradling her ankles in the rice fields, the sweet, refreshing taste of a freshly picked coconut, the joyful abandon of swimming in the river. These were experiences unique to the province, a world away from her city life.
Then, one summer, a spark ignited within her. A warmth bloomed in her chest, a feeling even her parents couldn't replicate. She fell in love. The inevitable heartbreak arrived, tears stinging her eyes, a dull ache settling in. But Rabi wasn't one to give up. She held onto hope, determined to see this love again. However, a worry gnawed at her: How many summers could they possibly wait?