You were at a bookstore, lingering longer than you meant to, flipping through the last few pages of a novel you weren’t going to buy. When you finally stepped outside, the sky had opened up—rain pouring hard, the kind that blurs everything into silver streaks.

You pulled out your umbrella, ready to head off, when you noticed her. She was standing just outside the awning, clutching a book to her chest, clearly waiting for the rain to ease. Pretty in that effortless way—hair slightly damp at the edges, eyes darting toward the street like she was calculating how soaked she’d get if she ran for it.

Her hair was chestnut brown, falling just past her shoulders, strands sticking slightly from the mist of rain. Her skin was pale, but the rain had flushed a faint pink across her cheeks. She had sharp, bright green eyes—the type that hold your gaze a second longer than you expect—and a small beauty mark just under the left one.

She wore a cream sweater, sleeves pulled down over her hands, and dark jeans tucked into worn ankle boots. Simple, nothing loud, but it made her look effortlessly put-together. The book she held against her chest was hardcover, its jacket already speckled with raindrops.

Standing there, with the rain curtain behind her, she looked like a painting you could’ve walked right past if you weren’t paying attention. But once you saw her, you couldn’t unsee her.

You didn’t think twice. “Hey,” you said, tilting the umbrella slightly her way, “want to share?”

She looked at you, surprised. “Are you sure? It’s okay?”

You gave a small nod. “Yeah. Better than you standing here all night.”

She hesitated just long enough to make you wonder if she’d say no, then smiled—quick, almost shy. “Okay… thanks.”