The rain started just as I stepped out of the subway. Not a light drizzle, big, angry drops that hit the sidewalk like they were mad at the world. I didn't have an umbrella. Didn't care. I pulled my coat tighter and started walking.
New York in the rain feels different. The lights smear across puddles. Horns sound farther away. People hurry, heads down, but I slowed. Let the water soak my hair, run down my face, mix with whatever tears I wasn't ready to admit were there.
Twenty years ago, rain like this used to mean something else.
Alexander and I would run for cover under the old covered bridge near the creek. We'd stand there dripping, laughing, until the laughing turned quiet. Then he'd back me against the wooden rail, hands on my waist, and kiss me slow… like the storm was waiting for us to finish.
I could still feel it. The way his fingers slipped under my wet shirt, warm against cold skin. The way he'd whisper my name against my lips like it was a secret only he knew. "El… you're everything."
My heels clicked unevenly on the wet pavement now. I turned down a quieter street, away from the crowds. The memory hit harder here, no noise to drown it out.
We were seventeen. Stupid. In love like only teenagers can be fierce, all-consuming, no room for doubt. We talked about running away to California. Some beach town where nobody knew our families. He'd build apps, I'd paint, we'd live on nothing but each other.
Then his dad found out.
Victor Voss didn't yell. He didn't need to. He just looked at Alexander and said, "She's a nice girl. But nice girls don't build empires. You're going to MIT. End of discussion."
Alexander fought. I heard him through the phone that night, voice breaking, begging. "Dad, please. I love her."
Victor's answer was cold. "Love doesn't pay tuition. Pack your bags."
Two days later, Alexander was gone. His truck peeled out of my driveway at dusk. I stood on the porch watching the taillights fade, rain starting just like tonight. I didn't cry then. Not in front of my parents. I waited until they were asleep, then sat on my bedroom floor and sobbed into a pillow that still smelled like him.
I stopped walking now. Leaned against a brick wall under a shop awning. The rain drummed on the metal above me. My breath came short.
Why did it still hurt this much?
Because I never got closure. One day he was mine. The next he was gone. No goodbye kiss. No last "I love you." Just silence. And then my mom with her tea and her practical voice: "Marcus is a good man, Elena. He'll take care of you. Your father needs this."
I said yes because I was broken. Because saying no meant facing the hole Alexander left.
Now here I was, thirty-eight, soaked, married to a man who forgot our anniversary, mother to a girl who deserved better than a house full of polite distance.
My phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out with wet fingers.
Alexander.
"You okay? The weather's bad. Don't want you out in it."
How did he know? I hadn't told him I was walking.
Then another text.
"Saw your location ping on an old shared app we used to use. Forgot to turn it off. Sorry. Just… be safe."
I stared at the screen. That stupid teenage app we'd downloaded so we could find each other after school. Neither of us ever deleted it.
My thumbs moved before my brain caught up.
I'm fine. Just walking.
His reply came fast.
"In the rain? El…"
I bit my lip. Typed.
Needed air. Anniversary dinner didn't go great.
Three dots appeared. Disappeared. Appeared again.
"Want to talk about it?"
I looked up at the rain pouring off the awning. My coat was heavy with water. My shoes were ruined.
I typed the truth.
Yes.
Another pause.
"There's a coffee shop two blocks east. The little one with the blue door. I can be there in ten. No pressure. Just coffee. Or tea. Or nothing. Whatever you need."
My heart slammed so hard I felt it in my throat.
This was crazy. Dangerous. Wrong.
But my feet were already moving.
I typed one word.
Okay.
I shoved the phone in my pocket and started walking faster. The rain stung my face now, but I didn't care.
Two blocks.
Blue door.
Him.
I didn't know what I was doing. Didn't know what I'd say when I saw him. Didn't know if I'd run the second our eyes met.
But I kept walking.
Because twenty years of silence had finally cracked open.
And the girl who used to stand under bridges kissing in the rain?
She was still in here.
And she was tired of waiting.