**Diary Entry – A Rainy Reunion**
The Tube exit was jammed. Outside, the rain poured relentlessly. Those fortunate enough to own umbrellas fumbled in their bags, slowing everyone down. The rest hovered under cover, unwilling to step into the downpour. But the crowd behind us pushed impatiently, shoving us forward into the wet.
“Get your umbrella out,” Edward snapped near the exit.
“I don’t have one,” Sophie admitted helplessly, unable to resist the crush of people.
“I warned you it would rain this morning,” Edward said irritably, standing soaked as he glanced longingly back at the station doors.
“I was running late—too much going on. You could’ve brought an extra. Yours is big enough for both of us,” Sophie shot back.
“Fine, we’re not made of sugar—we won’t melt.” He strode off, forcing Sophie to hurry after him.
“Exactly—it’s huge. I carried it around all day yesterday and not a drop fell. Yours is compact—why didn’t you just keep it in your bag?” Edward grumbled as they walked.
“I was drying it.”
They bickered, raising their voices over the drumming rain.
“You always excuse yourself but make me the villain,” Sophie snapped, exhausted from the argument.
“I’m not blaming you, I just said—”
“You said it like I should feel guilty. Couldn’t you have phrased it differently? Or just stayed quiet? I’m tired of your nitpicking. You turn every little thing into a catastrophe.”
“You call this rain *little*?” Edward asked, not turning. “I only said—”
“Oh, don’t start again. Enough!” Sophie cut him off, breathless from walking too fast.
Edward muttered something else, but she didn’t reply. Soon, he fell silent too. Sophie knew she was partly at fault—and this wretched rain. Her clothes clung to her, hair dripping.
When had it started? The constant sniping. Or had it always been this way? Maybe she used to let things go before they flared into full-blown fights.
A man approached—no umbrella, yet he walked as if relishing the rain, hands in his jeans pockets. Sophie’s heart pounded before her mind caught up. *Daniel?*
She couldn’t look away. His eyes met hers—but as he passed, he glanced aside. What did that mean? It *was* him. She couldn’t be wrong. Yet he’d walked right by. Had she misjudged? Plenty of people looked alike. She gasped—she’d been holding her breath. Tears welled, masked by the rain.
“Who was that? Why was he staring?” Edward leaned forward, trying to read her face.
“No one. Must’ve mistaken him.” Her voice was flat. *Why pretend not to know me?*
“You’re lying. You looked like you’d seen a ghost.”
*I have*, she thought. Aloud: “He reminded me of someone from uni. You saw—he didn’t even acknowledge me.” She forced calm into her voice, though inside, she seethed. “Are you jealous?” She tried to laugh.
“You’re upset,” Edward pressed.
“Stop interrogating me. I. Don’t. Know. Him!” she burst out.
*He’s right—it was a ghost. I tried so hard to forget him! But if he won’t acknowledge me, I won’t either. He betrayed me…*
“Admit it—there’s history. You’re too defensive,” Edward said coolly.
“What do you want from me? Just stop,” Sophie pleaded.
Finally, they reached home.
“I’m showering first,” she said the moment they stepped inside, darting to the bathroom. Edward grumbled, but she turned the water up to drown him out. *What a sight I must’ve been. No wonder he walked past. Blame this rain…*
Peeling off soaked clothes, she studied herself in the mirror. Still slim, small breasts firm, face unlined. Her dark lashes needed no mascara. *Not bad at all. But he’s changed—older, sharper…*
Under the hot spray, she couldn’t shake the memories.
***
Sophie pushed through the crowd at the university noticeboard, too short to see past the taller students. “Let me through!”
A guy stepped aside. “Here.”
She found her name, fingers tracing it twice to be sure. She’d made it.
“Congratulations,” the same voice said.
She turned—a stranger, grinning. “Thanks. You too?”
“Yep. Guess we’ll be classmates.”
“Brilliant,” she smiled.
They met properly in September, like old friends. Different seminars, but they crossed paths in lectures and the canteen. Daniel smiled, waved—never more. “Hi. How’s it going? Bye.”
Exams loomed at year’s end. Sophie hesitated outside the university as storm clouds gathered. *Wait it out or run?*
“Blimey,” Daniel said, joining her. “Got an umbrella?”
“No. Think we’ll make it?”
“We’ll try.”
They’d barely gone 300 metres when fat drops fell.
“Come on!” He grabbed her hand, pulling her toward his flat.
Drenched, they stumbled inside.
“Anyone home?” Sophie asked, wary.
“Mum,” he said, unlocking the door—then laughed at her panic. “Kidding. She’s at work. Shower, I’ll find you dry clothes.”
He passed a T-shirt and towel through the door. When she emerged, he’d changed and was pouring tea. A mountain of sandwiches waited.
“Suits you,” he smirked—his T-shirt swam on her.
They talked for hours. His father had died three years ago; it was just him and his mum.
“You read a lot?” she asked, eyeing the packed shelves.
“Family habit. Dad’s collection.”
They kissed until their lips burned.
“I really like you,” Daniel rasped.
“I should go—your mum—”
“Clothes are still wet.”
But she wriggled into damp jeans, reluctant yet afraid of where this might lead.
Exams passed in a haze. July was a blur of stolen days, inseparable.
Then, in August: “Mum and I are going to Scotland. Family trip—three weeks.”
“Three *weeks*?”
“I’ll call every day.”
But after two weeks, his number went dead. When term restarted, he wasn’t there. A classmate said he’d had an accident—his mum had requested leave.
Sophie rushed to his flat. His mother was icy. “He’s badly hurt. Might never walk. He asked you not to contact him. Forget him. You’re young—don’t waste your life on an invalid.”
Sophie raged. *How dare he decide for me?* He’d never even said *I love you*. By final year, she’d married Edward.
***
“Sophie, asleep in there?” Edward knocked.
“Nearly done,” she called, shutting off the water.
That night, she replayed the encounter. *Was it him? He wasn’t limping. But he* knew *me. Why ignore me?*
“Don’t forget—holiday next week,” Edward said at dinner. “Pack properly this time.”
“I’ll manage,” she murmured.
She’d forgotten. But before leaving, she *had* to see Daniel. Next day, she left work early, heart pounding as she reached his door.
The second she rang, he was there—kissing her. All anger dissolved.
“I knew you’d come,” he whispered later. The accident had nearly killed his cousin. Surgeries, rehab abroad. “I couldn’t promise you a cripple. But when I saw you…”
She lost track of time. Only when darkness fell did she panic.
“I have to go.”
“Stay.”
He called a taxi. At her building, she listened—the engine didn’t leave.
Inside, Edward was waiting.
“Where were you? With *him*?”
“Let’s talk—”
“Talk?” He laughed harshly. “Whore!”
The punch shattered her jaw. She crumpled, blacking out under his kicks.
Meanwhile, Daniel stood below. Her light stayed on—an argument? He tried the code lock, then buzzed. “Police. Fight in progress.”
Miraculously, the door clicked.
He sprinted upstairs, pounding on her door. Edward answered, shirt bloody. Daniel shoved past—Sophie lay curled on the floor.
He ducked Edward’s swing, twisted his arm. “Listen. I won’t report this—yet. But I’m documenting everything. Stay quiet till we’re gone.”
He carried Sophie out. A neighbour helped them to the taxi.
Broken jaw. Concussion. Days in hospital.
At discharge, rain drizzled.
“Still no umbrella,” Sophie sighed.
“Rain’s good luck,” Daniel said.
A year later, they had a son.
*I used to think the worst thing was loving
