There are conversations that feel like collisions.

Sharp.

Explosive.

Unavoidable.

And then there are the ones that unfold slowly…

Like walking across thin ice, unsure which step might break the surface.

Neither of them spoke after the greeting.

Not because there was nothing to say.

Because there was too much.

The rain filled the silence between them, steady and grounding, like a rhythm both of them needed.

A reminder that something existed outside this fragile moment.

Something constant.

Something neutral.

Amara leaned against the edge of the table, phone pressed lightly to her ear, her free hand resting against her ribs as if holding herself together.

She could hear him...