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Episode 25 – Rainy Afternoon Confessions
Layla POV
The sky had been threatening rain all morning, heavy clouds rolling across the campus like low-hanging curtains. By mid-afternoon, the first drizzling drops began to scatter across the courtyard, tapping against leaves and benches in a gentle, persistent rhythm. I tightened the straps of my backpack and glanced up, wondering if Ethan would even notice if the rain started in earnest. Somehow, in that quiet tension of wet air and clouded light, the campus felt smaller, more intimate—as if the usual chatter of students and shuffle of footsteps had dissolved into a private world just for us.
I spotted him near the fountain, his posture slightly hunched under the hood of his navy rain jacket. He hadn't seen me yet, so I took a moment to study him from a distance. Ethan always seemed to carry a kind of ease even when things were complicated, though now, with Marcus's warnings and the note incident lingering in the back of my mind, that ease was shadowed with subtle tension.
I called out softly. "Ethan."
He looked up, and a small, relieved smile curved his lips. "Layla."
I quickened my pace, feeling the cool drops soaking through my coat sleeves, and met him halfway. "Didn't think the rain would start so soon," I said, brushing wet strands of hair from my face.
He chuckled, a sound that always made the tight knot in my chest loosen, even if just a little. "It's perfect timing. Kind of like we're in a movie scene."
I rolled my eyes but smiled anyway. "A rainy campus movie scene… How romantic." My tone was teasing, but my heart thumped with an unfamiliar intensity.
We walked side by side toward the far edge of the quad, under the protection of the few trees that hadn't lost their leaves yet. The droplets slid down the branches, some falling on our shoulders, but neither of us seemed to mind. For a brief moment, I let myself sink into the normalcy of it—the shared silence, the occasional splash of water underfoot, and the way Ethan's presence seemed to absorb everything else around us.
"You look… different today," he said after a pause. His voice carried that subtle curiosity he always had, the one that made me feel like he was noticing the smallest details about me.
I laughed, shaking my head. "Different how? Because I'm wet?"
"Not just that." He hesitated, scanning my face, as if searching for words. "You… look calmer. Or maybe more serious. I don't know. Something's changed."
I swallowed. Was it the note, the whispers, the shadow of the anonymous watcher? Or was it just me, aware of how much was happening around us, and how much I wanted to say but couldn't? "Maybe it's the rain," I said lightly, though my chest tightened.
Ethan reached out and brushed a stray wet hair behind my ear. The touch was fleeting but deliberate. I felt a small spark that ran down my spine, and I tried to focus on something—anything—other than the warmth spreading across my shoulders.
"Layla," he began softly, and my heart tripped over itself at the sound of my name on his lips. "I… I wanted to talk about everything. About the note, the videos, Marcus, all of it."
I nodded, taking a deep breath. "I know. I've been thinking about it too. I… I hate that someone's doing this. Watching us. Trying to control what we do, even when it's just… our life." My voice cracked slightly, and I quickly tried to steady it. "It's scary, Ethan. And I don't know who it is."
He fell silent for a moment, letting my words hang between us. Then he said, quietly but firmly, "No one should be able to scare you, Layla. Not here, not anywhere. We'll figure this out—together."
A warmth spread through my chest at the reassurance, though fear still lingered in the edges of my mind. "Together," I repeated, almost like a promise, and the word felt heavier than I expected. He took my hand gently, and I let him, letting the small connection ground me amid the tension.
The rain began to pick up, heavier now, and we ducked under the branch of a large maple. Drops slid down the leaves in little streams, splashing against the stone pathway. I looked at him, noticing how the wet strands of his hair clung to his forehead, how the jacket's damp fabric stuck slightly to his shoulders. There was something so… real about this moment. Simple. Raw. Exposed, in a way that had nothing to do with the rain.
"I… I'm scared, Ethan," I admitted, my voice dropping. "I don't like feeling like someone's always watching, like we're not even allowed to exist normally for a second."
He squeezed my hand gently. "I get it. I feel the same way. But that's why we have to trust each other. And not just about this… about everything." His thumb brushed my knuckles, slow and steady. "You and me. What we want, what we feel… we don't let anyone else take that from us."
I swallowed, feeling a lump in my throat. "It's just… sometimes it's hard to remember that. Especially when Marcus is constantly on the lookout, and there's all this… tension everywhere."
"That's why we have to create our own space," he said, tilting his head slightly. "Even if it's just a few minutes in the rain, just the two of us, talking. Being… honest."
The honesty in his eyes made my chest ache. There was no pretense, no false bravado—just him, and the trust I felt in his presence. And somehow, in the quiet storm around us, it felt safe enough to let myself feel everything I'd been holding back: fear, longing, affection, and a sudden, sharp desire to lean in closer.
"Ethan…" My voice was soft, almost a whisper. "I… I don't know how to stop worrying."
He tilted his face toward mine, eyes earnest and open. "You don't have to stop. You just… let me be here. Let me handle what I can, and lean on me when you need it."
A small, bittersweet smile tugged at my lips. I wanted to say more, to confess how much I had thought about him, about us, but the words got caught in my chest. Instead, I nodded, letting the warmth of his hand anchor me.
The rain had grown heavier, a steady drizzle now, and we started walking again, our steps slow on the slick pavement. Students hurried past us under umbrellas, barely noticing our quiet presence. The world felt suspended, a temporary bubble where only the rain, the fountain, and the soft hum of distant conversations existed.
I found myself talking, spilling fragments I hadn't meant to say out loud. "I… I keep thinking about how fragile this all feels. Not just us, but… everything. The videos, Marcus, the rumors. I feel like I have to be careful all the time."
"You're not alone," he said immediately. "I know it's scary, and yeah… someone's watching. But we're not helpless. We're careful, smart, and… we have each other." His thumb rubbed small circles on my hand, and I felt a shiver—not from the cold rain, but from the closeness, the attention.
We reached a quieter corner of the quad, where the benches were half-hidden under thick hedges. The fountain gurgled nearby, droplets splashing into the stone basin. We sat on the edge, our feet dangling over the side. I shivered slightly, cold from the rain and the damp, but Ethan pulled his jacket around my shoulders without a word.
"Better?" he asked.
"Much better," I admitted, and felt my face heat under his gaze. "Thank you."
He shrugged, casually, as if it were no effort at all. "You're worth it."
A silence settled between us, filled only by the soft patter of rain. I let it linger, not pushing for words, not trying to analyze everything. The simplicity of being here, with someone who cared enough to shield me from even the smallest discomfort, felt profound.
Finally, I broke the quiet. "Ethan… I…" My words faltered, but he leaned closer, encouraging, patient.
"I know," he said softly. "You don't have to finish."
And somehow, that was enough. Enough that I could let the tension ease, let the moment stretch without forcing anything into words.
Minutes passed like this, small and quiet, the rain soaking our hair and coats. Then he said, "Layla, I need to ask you something." His tone carried a weight I hadn't expected. "Not about the videos, not about Marcus, not about campus gossip. About us. About what we… want."
I swallowed, suddenly aware of how much I wanted to say yes without fully understanding what it would mean. "I… I think I know."
"No, I want to hear it from you," he pressed gently.
"I… I want this," I admitted finally. "I want… us. Even if it's complicated. Even if it's scary."
His eyes softened, and a small smile curved his lips. "Me too. More than I can say."
We sat there for a long while, hands entwined, letting the rain cloak us in privacy. For the first time in days, I felt like I could breathe, like the chaos around us—the anonymous watcher, Marcus's constant alerts, the lingering fear of rumors—was momentarily held at bay.
Eventually, the rain slowed, turning into a soft drizzle. We rose, still close, and started walking back toward the dorms. The quad was quieter now, almost empty, and the puddles reflected the gray sky and the glowing campus lights.
As we approached our dorm building, I realized something profound: even amid uncertainty, fear, and the shadows of someone watching, connection—real, human connection—was the only thing that could steady me. Ethan's hand on mine, his voice in my ear, the warmth of his presence—it anchored me in ways I hadn't realized I needed.
"I guess Marcus will be expecting updates," I said lightly, trying to break the weight of the moment.
Ethan chuckled, a deep, satisfying sound. "Yeah, but for a few minutes, we had our own world. And that's all that matters right now."
I smiled, leaning slightly into him as we entered the dorm lobby. For the first time in days, I felt the storm outside, and the storm in my life, both softened—not gone, but more manageable.
Tonight, I thought, I could sleep without the knot of anxiety in my chest. And maybe, just maybe, the anonymous watcher didn't have the power to touch that.
Because for all the fear, for all the chaos, there was this—rain, confession, and the quiet certainty that Ethan and I were facing it together.
And in that, I found a fragile, precious peace.
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