It had been raining since afternoon, the kind of rain that didn't rush or announce itself with thunder. It simply stayed thin, patient, soaking the roads and blurring the world until everything looked tired.
Iris noticed it while standing by the window of the small café on Pine Street. She'd been there for almost an hour, pretending to read a book she hadn't turned a page of. The glass was cold against her fingers. Outside, people hurried past with hunched shoulders and umbrellas that turned inside out every few seconds.
She liked watching them. It made her feel less alone.
"You're going to miss your tea if you keep staring like that."
Lena's voice cut through her thoughts. Iris blinked and looked down at the table. The tea sat untouched, steam curling upward like it was quietly giving up.
"I'm not thirsty," Iris said.
"You ordered it."
"I know."
Lena sighed, stirring her own drink. "You've been like this all week."
Iris shrugged. She didn't know how to explain the feeling like something was wrong, but not wrong enough to name. Just a faint pressure in her chest, as if she'd forgotten something important and her body remembered even if her mind didn't.
Outside, the rain grew heavier.
"Are you still thinking about tonight?" Lena asked.
Iris nodded slowly. "It's just a drive. I don't know why everyone's making it feel like a big deal."
"Because it's raining," Lena said. "And because it's dark. And because you overthink everything."
Iris smiled faintly. "That too."
Her phone buzzed on the table.
Noah.
She hesitated before picking it up.
Noah, I'm outside.
Iris glanced toward the café door. Through the rain-smeared glass, she saw him standing by his car, jacket already damp, hair darkened by the rain. He wasn't in a hurry. He never was. He just waited, hands in his pockets, like he had all the time in the world.
Her chest tightened.
"I should go," she said, standing up.
Lena studied her face for a moment. "You okay?"
"I'm fine," Iris lied gently.
Outside, the rain hit harder, soaking the pavement and splashing against her shoes as she stepped out. The cold startled her. Noah looked up when he saw her, a small smile forming automatically, the kind that came from habit more than thought.
"Hey," he said.
"Hey."
He opened the passenger door for her, shielding her slightly from the rain. His hand hovered near her back but didn't touch. Iris noticed that too. She noticed everything when it came to him.
"You stayed late," he said as they got into the car.
"Lost track of time."
The engine hummed to life. Rain drummed against the windshield as Noah pulled onto the road. The wipers moved back and forth in a steady rhythm.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence wasn't awkward. It never was. It was the kind of quiet that came from knowing someone too well so well that words sometimes felt unnecessary.
Still, Iris felt restless.
"Do you ever feel like something's about to happen?" she asked suddenly.
Noah glanced at her. "What kind of something?"
"I don't know. Not good or bad. Just… something."
He thought for a moment. "You've always felt things before they happened."
She frowned. "Always?"
He hesitated, then smiled lightly. "I mean… you're intuitive."
She accepted the answer, though a strange chill ran through her.
The road ahead shimmered under the rain, streetlights stretching into long, distorted reflections. Cars passed them, tires hissing on wet asphalt.
"I could drive," Iris said.
Noah shook his head. "It's fine."
"You sure?"
"Yes."
Another silence.
Iris leaned her head back against the seat, watching the rain trail down the window. Her eyelids felt heavy, though she wasn't tired. Just… distant.
"Noah?" she said softly.
"Yeah?"
"Promise me something."
He tightened his grip on the steering wheel slightly. "What?"
"If anything ever happens to me," she said, her voice almost lost beneath the sound of the rain, "don't disappear."
His heart skipped. "Nothing's going to happen."
"Just promise."
He didn't like promises made out of fear. Still, he nodded. "I promise."
She smiled, eyes closing for a second.
That was when the headlights appeared.
Too close. Too fast.
"Noah"
The world shattered in sound and motion.
Metal screamed. Glass exploded. The car spun, weightless for a terrifying second, before slamming hard into something solid. Iris felt her body jerk forward, then sideways. Pain bloomed, sharp and blinding.
Her last clear thought was of rain.
Then everything went dark.
The first thing Noah felt was pain everywhere, all at once. His head throbbed, his chest burned, and his ears rang like something had exploded inside them.
"Iris."
His voice sounded wrong, distant.
He forced his eyes open. The windshield was gone. Rain poured in freely now, soaking the seats, his clothes, everything. The car was crumpled at an unnatural angle.
"Iris!" he shouted.
She was slumped beside him, blood trickling from her forehead, eyes closed.
Panic clawed up his throat.
"No, no, no" His hands shook as he reached for her. "Iris, wake up. Please."
She didn't respond.
He fumbled for his phone, fingers slick with blood and rain, nearly dropping it twice before managing to dial for help. His voice cracked as he spoke, words tumbling over each other.
He stayed awake through it all.
The sirens.
The shouting.
The flashing lights that painted the rain red and blue.
He held her hand until they pulled him away.
When Iris opened her eyes again, everything was white.
The ceiling.
The lights.
The walls.
Her head hurt, but not sharply more like a dull, confusing ache. She tried to move and winced.
"Easy," a calm voice said. "You're in the hospital."
She turned her head slightly. A nurse stood beside the bed, adjusting something on a monitor.
"What happened?" Iris asked.
"You were in an accident," the nurse replied gently. "You're safe now."
Iris swallowed. Her throat felt dry. She looked around the room, taking in the machines, the quiet beeping sounds, the unfamiliar smell.
There was a man standing near the doorway.
He froze when their eyes met.
Something flickered across his face relief, fear, something deeper she couldn't place.
He took a hesitant step forward.
"Iris," he said, his voice barely holding together. "You're awake."
She stared at him.
His face felt… important. Like a word on the tip of her tongue.
But nothing came.
"I'm sorry," she said slowly. "Do I know you?"
The room went very quiet.
The man didn't answer right away. He just stood there, rain-soaked jacket still clinging to him, eyes shining with something that made her chest ache for no reason at all.
He forced a small smile.
"I'm Noah," he said.
She nodded politely, committing the name to memory like it was brand new.
"Hi, Noah."
Outside the hospital window, the rain continued to fall.
Unaware that it had taken something with it.