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The rain fell softly, casting a silvery veil over the quiet streets. Arga stood beneath a towering oak tree in the city park, its branches a fragile shield against the drizzle. He hadn’t been here in five years—not since that night. The night everything fell apart between him and Livia.
Tonight, though, he felt a pull he couldn’t resist. Something deep inside told him to return, though he didn’t know why. The park was desolate, save for the gentle patter of raindrops.
He was just about to leave when he heard a voice—a voice that made his heart freeze mid-beat.
“Arga?”
He turned, his breath catching. There she was. Livia.
She looked almost the same, though her hair, damp from the rain, clung to her face in a way that made her seem more real, more vulnerable than he remembered.
“Livia,” he murmured, his voice barely audible over the rain.
For a moment, they simply stared at each other, as if time itself had stopped, waiting for them to speak.
“I don’t know why I came here tonight,” Livia said finally, her voice trembling. “But I couldn’t shake the feeling that I needed to.”
Arga nodded slowly. “I feel the same.”
They stepped closer, the rain soaking them both, but it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered.
“I thought I moved on,” Livia said quietly, “but every time it rains, I think of you. I think of us.”
Arga laughed softly, a bittersweet sound. “Rain has a way of bringing your name back to me too.”
Livia bit her lip, her gaze dropping to the ground as if wrestling with an invisible weight. “There’s something I need to tell you, Arga.”
He reached for her hand instinctively, the warmth of her touch grounding him. “Whatever it is, I’ll listen.”
Livia hesitated, then whispered, “I’m getting married next week.”
It felt like the world had been swept out from under him, but Arga didn’t flinch. He held himself steady, even as his chest ached. “That’s… good news, Livia. Congratulations.”
She shook her head, tears welling up and mixing with the rain on her cheeks. “But I don’t know if it’s the right thing. I don’t know if he’s the right one.”
Arga’s breath hitched. The air between them was heavy with unspoken words.
“You know I’ve always loved you, right?” she said, her voice breaking.
He nodded, his heart pounding as he searched her face for answers.
“I was afraid,” she continued, her voice cracking. “Afraid that if we stayed together, we’d destroy each other. I couldn’t take that risk.”
Arga stepped closer, his voice firm yet tender. “We already destroyed everything once, Livia. But that’s because we gave up. Are you really going to let fear stop you again?”
Her silence spoke volumes.
And then, as if something inside her finally broke free, she whispered, “If I cancel the wedding, will you be here for me?”
Arga smiled—a small, sad smile, filled with years of longing. “I’ve been here all along, Liv. I never left.”
Before either could say more, the harsh blare of a car horn shattered the fragile moment. A man stood in the distance, calling out Livia’s name.
“That’s my fiancé,” she said, her voice a hollow echo of itself.
Arga nodded, his smile fading. “Go to him, Livia. If he makes you happy, then that’s all I want for you.”
Livia looked at him, her eyes swimming with indecision. Then, as if unable to resist, she ran to him, throwing her arms around him in a tight embrace.
“I don’t know what the future holds,” she whispered in his ear, “but I’ll never forget this night.”
With that, she turned and walked away, disappearing into the rain with her fiancé.
Arga stood there, his heart heavy yet strangely light, as if the weight of the past had finally been lifted. Then, glancing down at his hand, he noticed something small and cold resting in his palm—a gold ring.
His breath hitched. She had slipped it into his hand during the embrace.
For the first time in years, Arga let out a soft chuckle, one filled with both pain and hope.
“Let’s see where this story takes us,” he murmured, slipping the ring into his pocket as the rain continued to fall
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