The rain fell heavy that day, drumming a melancholic rhythm against my black umbrella. Each step on the wet, muddy road felt like a deliberate choice, one, two, three, four... and on my fifth, a hand, unexpectedly soft yet firm, grasped my umbrella. My eyes, still adjusting to the sudden halt, widened at the sight of her.

She was an apparition, an angel carved from light and rain, and in that instant, my heart, a loyal, dutiful organ until then, betrayed me. “I love you,” the words escaped, a desperate whisper into the downpour, as I drowned in the depths of her gaze. Her surprised “What?” was the splash that broke the spell. Embarrassment, a swift, cruel current, swept through me. I left the umbrella, a silent offering, and ran. Two weeks later, she walked into my life again, introduced by our teacher as Nadia, the new student. My heart, still bearing the fresh imprint of her beauty, pounded anew. She was mine, and the world knew it.