The rain didn’t stop for days.

It came down hard as if it decided to wash the whole city clean. Some streets were so badly flooded that it would’ve been better to use a boat than a bus to get anywhere. Dark, shiny puddles engulfed the sidewalks, stretching from curb to curb.

The sky stayed low and gray, buildings soaked through, their colors muted by water and shadows. The rain had chased people inside, and the streets were too empty.

There was no one outside.

No one in the bar.

No one anywhere.

And in the middle of all that, I was fine.

More than fine, actually. I was… great.

I tried to notice the beauty in all that gloom. The way the streetlights reflected in the puddles. The way the wet sidewalks shimmered with gold and white. The way that endless gray somehow reshaped our neighborhood into something cinematic.

It was surprisingly beautiful.

Instead of rushing through the rain, trying to get where I was going as fast as possible so I wouldn’t get soaked, I slowed down and tried to pay attention.

Despite all the dullness and damp air, if you really looked at it, our neighborhood felt cozier.

I decided that this rain wasn’t going to ruin my mood.

Just like I’d decided that all those worries that had been eating at me ever since I’d stood there watching his car disappear down the street needed to be pushed aside.

Right now, they felt distant. Unnecessary.

There was nothing to worry about.

Nothing at all.

Everything was fine.

Better than fine.

I focused on the things that brought me comfort.

I was replaying it in my head the way he’d touched me, the way his breath had brushed against my skin, the way my heart had pounded like it was trying to break free from my chest.

That was what mattered.

The world outside could do whatever it wanted. Rain, empty streets, silence—it didn’t touch me.

Maybe that was why I was so full of energy, and that energy wouldn't let me stand still.

At the bar, I constantly found something to do.

I suggested reorganizing the bottles. Again. Then I brought up inventory, even though we’d done it recently. Then I wondered whether the current storage arrangement made sense. Maybe we could optimize things, change the flow, and rethink where everything went.

Kazuo stared at me like I’d lost my mind.

“You’re in a mood,” he said.

“I’m just saying,” I replied, halfway to the shelves. “If we’re gonna have all this empty time, we might as well use it.”

He laughed, shaking his head. “Keep it up, and I’ll have you scrubbing the kitchen from floor to ceiling. Don’t tempt me.”

I shrugged and continued working.

The truth was, I didn't care what I did. My hands wanted to stay busy. My head was too full to sit still.

Usually, rainy weather seemed to whisper that you should grab something warm. Something that would heat you from the inside out, lift your mood a little, add a soft, romantic edge to all that gray.

But this time it was different.

To get to us, you had to be soaked through. Didn’t matter if you had an umbrella or wrapped yourself in a raincoat — the rain made sure of that. It kept people away.

The streets were empty. So was our floor.

The bar was quiet, and I was completely free.

So I welcomed any other kind of work.

I moved things around. Wiped down surfaces that were already clean. Started projects that didn’t really need starting. I couldn’t sit still even if I tried.

The world could’ve been drenched and tired, but I was awake. Charged.

I decided to live in a different rhythm than everything around me.

That went on for a whole week.

I got more done in those days than I usually did in a month. At the bar. At home. Everywhere. I didn’t slow down, didn’t let myself pause long enough to think.

I didn’t want to.

To keep that fire burning, I was feeding it every good memory I had. Every soft moment. Every gentle look. Every small thing that had sparked something warm in me when it came to him.

For now, those memories were enough to help me stay okay.

By the end of the week, the rain was still pouring nonstop, and the bar was completely dead.

I was moving around the floor, gathering chairs one by one, flipping them over, and setting them on the tables when the bell above the door chimed.

I turned sharply, hoping it would be—

It was Kazuo.

Soaked through, water dripping from his fur and the edges of his jacket. He shook the rain from himself as he stepped inside. Droplets scattered across the floor, darkening the wood.

And for a second, I felt a dull, pressing disappointment.

That was ridiculous. There was nothing to be disappointed about.

Of course, it was Kazuo.

Who else could it have been?

I turned back to the table in front of me, grabbed a chair, started flipping it over and—

It slipped out of my hands, crashing to the floor with a loud bang. I crouched down to pick it up.

“He’ll come back,” I muttered under my breath as I set the chair upright, flipped it properly onto the table, and headed back toward the bar. “It’s just the rain.”

The forecast said the rain would last only a few more days. Two. Maybe three. That wasn’t long. I could wait.

When it stopped, he’d show up again.

He’d come back because we’d gotten closer. Because I’d trusted him and let him see something I’d hidden for a long time, something I rarely showed anyone.

I’d taken a risk, and it hadn’t been a mistake.