It was all the rain’s fault.
By late afternoon, the sky had darkened with clouds, and by evening, a drizzle began. Springtime made the streets look dreary, especially on such a wet evening.
Matthew had been driving around town for over an hour, killing time before his departure. As evening fell, the roads grew busier, forcing him to idle in traffic and at red lights. Time dragged, but he didn’t want to go home, and it was too early to head to the station.
He pulled over by the kerb and switched off the windscreen wipers. Tiny raindrops dotted the glass like transparent beads, warping the world beyond.
All week, he’d been trying to recover from Olivia leaving him. Even now, the ache hadn’t gone. If he’d stayed home, he’d have drunk himself to sleep again, as he had every night since. Without wine, sleep was impossible.
They’d lived together for nearly a year, after dating for two months. At first, everything was perfect—more than perfect. He’d even started making plans for a summer trip to the coast, where he’d propose by the sea, despite their recent arguments. Olivia had grown quarrelsome, snapping at him over nothing, always angry, always making demands.
Just before she left, they’d fought over his gift for her on Mother’s Day. A bouquet of Dutch tulips and the handbag she’d been eyeing for ages—yet she called it cheap.
“You wanted this bag!” Matthew had protested. “And it wasn’t exactly cheap, you know.”
“I knew you’d get it. I thought you’d add something personal—a surprise. Gifts should be unexpected.”
“Well, sorry. You could’ve dropped a hint if you wanted more.”
“Couldn’t you have figured it out yourself?”
And off she went again. He didn’t know how to please a woman, she said. He didn’t earn enough. Look at what David gave Roxanne—a fur coat! And Maisie’s boyfriend bought her a diamond ring.
“David’s crooked. He earns dirty money, skirting the law.”
“And? At least she gets new things, European holidays. You’re so high and mighty, and we’re stuck scraping by.”
“We’re not poor. I was going to give you a ring—just later. Why do you even need a fur coat in spring? And he probably got it half-price in a sale.”
“Are you pretending, or are you really this dense?” Her voice was sharp as shattered glass.
All their fights had a reason, and Matthew suspected what it was—but he refused to believe it. Before, they’d argued and made up by nightfall. But that night, Olivia had turned away, slapped his hand when he tried to hold her.
By morning, she wouldn’t speak to him. He called her all day, but she ignored him—then blocked his number. Matthew barely lasted until evening. On the way home, he bought flowers, but when he stepped inside, only a note waited for him.
Olivia had written that she was tired of everything, that she was leaving for someone who’d give her the world. Her clothes were gone, along with the suitcase they’d used on holiday.
He stormed through the flat, hurling whatever he could grab—especially the little things she’d forgotten, or left behind for her new, richer life. Then he stuffed her remaining belongings—her toothbrush, a pot of cream, her dressing gown hanging in the bathroom—into a bin bag and dumped it outside.
The worst part? She hadn’t just left—she’d traded him for someone else, painting him as some failure. And that was exactly how he felt. He couldn’t sleep, haunted by her scent on the pillows. Memories choked him. He uncorked a bottle, gulped down wine. It barely helped, but he managed a few hours of fitful sleep.
It went on like that all week. He dragged himself to work with dark circles. His mates pitied him. His boss took mercy, sending him to heal his broken heart with a stint in Edinburgh instead of the new hire.
“Change of scenery’ll do you good,” he said, clapping Matthew’s shoulder.
After work, Matthew packed a duffel bag, tossed it into the boot, and drove aimlessly. Rain blurred the windows, smearing the city into streaks of light from passing cars.
He rolled down the window and spotted a café sign. He imagined cosy tables, soft lighting, murmuring voices—just what he needed to distract himself. He parked and walked in. The place wasn’t crowded, but every table was taken. He slid onto a barstool and asked for coffee.
“Bar’s for drinks only. Sit at a table, and a waiter’ll help you,” the barman said.
“Right.” Matthew scanned the room for an empty seat—then noticed a lone woman at a corner table. Steam curled from her cup as she stirred absently. Dark hair pulled into a ponytail, a delicate profile, eyes downcast. Tight jeans and a fitted jumper hugged her slim frame.
*I wonder what colour her eyes are.* He wanted to know immediately. For some reason, he was sure she wouldn’t send him away. He walked over.
“Mind if I join you?” he asked, already sitting.
She looked up. Green eyes. *Olivia’s were brown*, he thought unwelcomely.
“You already have,” she said.
A waiter brought menus.
“Black coffee, no sugar,” Matthew said, then glanced at her cup. “Make that two.”
“I didn’t ask you to,” she said flatly.
“Cold coffee’s vile. So—stood up?”
“By who?”
“Whoever you were waiting for.”
“What’s it to you?”
“You look miserable.”
“My friend.”
“What?”
“I was waiting for my friend.”
The waiter replaced her half-finished coffee with a fresh cup. Matthew took a sip.
“Not bad. I’m Matthew. You?”
“Is this a pickup?” she asked, unimpressed.
“Suppose so.”
“Eleanor.”
“Listen, Eleanor. Why sit here? I’ve got a car. Fancy a drive? Rainy evening, city lights—pretty. I’ll drop you home after. My girl left me. Train’s not till late, and I’ve got hours to kill.”
She studied him. *Weighing if I’m lying*, he realised.
“I’m not lying. You’ve got nowhere to be either, or you wouldn’t be here. Well? I’m not a creep—decent bloke, promise.”
“Why’d she leave you, then, *decent bloke*?”
“Didn’t leave. Upgraded. Found someone richer.”
Eleanor was silent, weighing it.
“Fine. Let’s drive,” she finally said.
The rain thickened. They ran to the car.
“Seatbelt on. I’ll show you the city,” he said as they settled in.
“Funny. I was born here.”
“I’ll show you a city *you* don’t know.”
As they drove, he pointed out buildings, sharing odd facts.
“How d’you know all this? Tour guide?” she asked.
“First—let’s drop the formalities. We’re in a cramped car—practically intimate. Second—my ex *was* a tour guide.”
He’d nearly lied, said he read a lot, loved local history. Normally, he would have. But not with Eleanor. She wasn’t like the others. He wasn’t trying to impress her—just wanted company.
They looped the city twice. Bored of talking, he turned on music, humming along. She joined in. By the chorus, they were shouting the lyrics together, laughing when it ended.
“Right, I’ll take you home. Where to? My train’s in two hours.”
“Where you headed?”
“Edinburgh. Had I known I’d meet you, I’d have cancelled. Volunteered for this trip. Back in a fortnight.”
“What d’you do?”
“Ad agency. You?”
“Bank. That’s my place,” she said suddenly, her mood dipping. She stared ahead. “You know what? Let me see you off.”
“You already have—helped me kill time.”
“No, at the station. You board, I’ll wave as the train leaves.”
“Romantic. No one’s done that,” he smiled. “But you’ll have to get home alone late.”
“Plenty of cabs at the station.”
They drove there. He parked in a paid bay. The waiting hall was near-empty. Olivia wouldn’t have come, he thought. Eleanor was different. Easy to be with. No need to perform. Sweet, unspoiled. He liked her.
His train was announced. They hurried to the platform.
“Script says I should kiss you now, say something grand,” he half-joked.
“So say it.” Her eyes held his.
“Can I kiss you?” He barely waited before brushing his lips to hers.
She didn’As the train pulled away, Matthew knew he had found something rare—not just a fleeting moment, but the beginning of a love that would outlast every storm.
