Chapter 7

                                                                         The Rain in Her Eyes

The sun finally showed itself the next morning, shy and uncertain behind silver clouds. But the air still smelled like yesterday's rain—earthy, tender, and full of memory.

Kai stood outside the bookstore again. He wasn’t sure why. He hadn’t planned to come.

But here he was.

This time, Yuna wasn’t behind the counter.

He stepped inside. The bell jingled gently above him, echoing into the quiet shop. A different girl at the register greeted him with a nod. Kai offered a small wave and wandered toward aisle three, his usual refuge.

The space felt a little different without her.

The poetry section stood still and familiar. The same paper smell, the same worn-out covers. He crouched, letting his fingers brush the titles without reading them.

Then he heard it—footsteps. Light ones.

He turned, and there she was. Yuna.

She wasn’t wearing her usual bookstore apron. Just a navy cardigan and a black dress, her hair tied back loosely.

 “Didn’t expect you here today,” he said, surprised.

 “I’m off today,” she replied, smiling faintly. “But I wanted to pick up a book.”

Her gaze didn’t meet his immediately. Something about her felt… quiet. Even more than usual.

 “Everything okay?” he asked.

She hesitated, then finally said,

 “I visited my father this morning. The hospital.”

That explained it.

Kai nodded softly, not prying.

 “He’s always liked poetry,” she continued. “Especially the kind that talks about rain.”

She smiled again, but this time it was thinner. Like a thread trying not to snap.

Kai gently offered a book without looking at the title.

 “Maybe this one says something he hasn’t heard before.”

She took it, eyes skimming the cover, then the pages.

 “Thank you.”

There was a pause, thick and soft, like a curtain drawn over two people who didn’t want to be seen just yet.

 “Want to sit by the window?” Kai asked.

Yuna nodded.

They sat in the same corner where Kai had first heard her laugh. The rain wasn’t falling now, but it felt like it might return. Still, the silence between them wasn’t empty—it was full. With understanding. With something unnamed.

Yuna opened the book and began to read softly. Just one line.

 “Some people don’t cry in front of you, because the rain inside them is already loud enough.”

Kai looked at her, then out the window, and said nothing.

Because for once, silence said enough.

---