Rain started without warning.

Not dramatic.

Just a soft, steady fall that turned the city slightly quieter, like someone had lowered the volume on the world.

Amara noticed it halfway down the block.

A cool drop against her wrist.

Then another.

Within seconds, the sky opened into a gentle drizzle that painted the sidewalks in a thin sheen of silver.

She didn’t run.

Didn’t search for cover.

She just kept walking.

There was a time when rain would have matched the heaviness inside her — when grey skies felt like confirmation of emotions she couldn’t escape.

Now it felt different.

Not symbolic.

Just weather.

And somehow, that felt like healing....