Elena's POV
The sky rumbled above as gray clouds rolled in like a warning. We were walking hand in hand down a cobblestone path near the hill behind the lake house—Zayden's jacket wrapped tightly around my shoulders, even though the air was warm.
"I told you we'd get caught in the rain," I teased, peeking up at him.
Zayden just smirked. "You also said you wanted to feel alive."
And then it began. The first drop hit my cheek. Then another. And another.
Within seconds, the sky opened up, drenching us both. My hair clung to my face. My dress clung to my body. And Zayden… he stood there like the rain was made just for us.
We didn't run.
We didn't hide.
He took a step toward me, water streaming down his face, and brushed a strand of hair behind my ear.
"Elena Wolfe," he whispered, voice rough and full of emotion, "you make every storm worth walking through."
And then he kissed me—like it was the first and last kiss we'd ever share. His lips were warm despite the rain. Fierce. Needy. Like he was trying to memorize me with every touch. His hands tangled in my soaked hair as mine gripped the collar of his shirt, pulling him impossibly close.
We kissed under the sky's fury—no umbrella, no shelter, just us. Just our love against the world.
He kissed me until we both gasped for air, foreheads pressed together, water running down our noses.
"I'm still gonna marry you again," he breathed, "rain or not."
I smiled, heart pounding. "Then don't stop kissing your Mrs. Wolfe."
And so, he didn't.
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Later that night, wrapped in blankets and warm tea, we made another list.
This time together.
Our Love Bucket List.
We started with the rain kiss—and then it grew:
1. Time capsule under the willow tree.
2. Slow dance in a street with no music.
3. Star-counting until we fall asleep.
4. Bake and decorate a ridiculous cake.
5. Random road trip with no destination.
6. Get matching tattoos.
7. Leave love letters behind for each other.
8. Visit every place we ever fell in love.
9. Write a "Guide to Loving Elena" book.
10. Say goodbye on our own terms—with laughter.
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Zayden's POV
That night, as Elena fell asleep curled against my chest, her breath soft and steady, I realized something.
She didn't want pity. Or sadness. She wanted memories—stolen time filled with us.
And I'd give her that.
Even if it broke me.
Even if the clock was ticking.
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