You and Garrett had broken up a month ago. No messy fights or screaming matches—just silence. A slow unraveling of everything that once felt so certain. And since then, nothing. No texts. No calls. No accidental run-ins on campus. Just an ache that followed you everywhere like a shadow.

The rain had started halfway through your last class. It wasn’t a drizzle—it was the kind of downpour that soaked you to the bone within minutes. You pulled your hood tighter around your face and walked faster, eager to get back to your dorm. The world felt muffled in the rain, as if time had slowed down just for a moment.

As you turned the final corner toward your building, you saw a tall figure standing under the dim light just outside the entrance. At first you thought it might be someone waiting for a friend or a ride, but something about the stance—the way he shifted his weight from foot to foot—felt familiar.

Your steps faltered. Your breath hitched.

It was him. Garrett.

The rain ran down his face, his hoodie useless against the storm. He looked up, almost as if he’d felt you there before he even saw you. And then, that infuriatingly familiar smirk curled at the corner of his lips.

“Hey,” he said, his voice just loud enough to cut through the rain. “It’s been a while.”

You stared at him, frozen somewhere between confusion and a pulse of emotion you hadn’t felt in weeks. “Garrett? What are you doing here?”

He shoved his hands in the pockets of his wet jeans. “I—I wasn’t sure you'd come this way. I’ve been standing here for a while.”

“In the rain?” you asked, blinking against the water streaming down your forehead. “Seriously?”

He shrugged, glancing away for a second before looking back at you. “I didn’t plan this part too well. I just... I didn’t know how else to see you. Or what I’d say if I did.”