The rain was heavy that night — not just falling, but crashing.
Like it knew something was about to break.
Evans Walker stared out of his apartment window, his breath fogging up the glass. The sky outside was weeping, and oddly, it matched the weight pressing on his chest. He didn't know why he felt that way — just a strange unease, like the calm before a storm that had already begun.
That's when the knock came.
Not a buzz. Not a phone call. A knock.
Three soft taps, hesitant. Almost… apologetic.
He opened the door slowly — and there she was.
Angel Rivera.
Hair drenched. Hoodie soaked. Eyes tired.
She looked like a dream caught in a storm. But he knew better.
Dreams don't show up at your door without warning…
With that kind of silence behind their eyes.
"Hey," she said, voice barely above a whisper.
Evans didn't say anything. He just stepped aside.
She walked in without waiting. Not like a stranger. Not like someone visiting.
More like someone escaping.
---
In the soft warmth of the apartment, Angel took off her wet hoodie and folded it like it meant something. Her clothes clung to her — not in a seductive way, but in a way that made her seem small. Vulnerable. Like if you touched her too hard, she'd shatter.
Evans stood behind her, watching quietly.
"Do you want to talk?" he asked.
She shook her head.
"I just… didn't know where else to go."
That hurt more than he expected.
---
They didn't say much that night.
He made her tea. She didn't drink it.
He played music. She didn't react.
She sat curled up on his couch, staring at nothing. And he just watched her, unsure if she was breaking — or already broken.
When midnight came, he took her hand gently.
"Come to bed," he whispered.
She followed.
---
The bedroom was dim. Familiar. Intimate. But the space between them felt like miles.
They lay there, side by side. Her back to him. His eyes on the ceiling.
"I've missed you," he said quietly.
Angel didn't answer. But her hand reached behind her, searching for his. She found it, squeezed it… then let go.
And that's when Evans knew.
This wasn't a reunion.
This was a goodbye in disguise.
He didn't ask questions. Didn't press her.
Because deep down, he was afraid of the answer.
So instead, he whispered:
"If this is the last time… just know, I would've chosen you. Even if I knew it would end like this."
Her breath hitched. Her body tensed.
But still… no words.
---
That night, the rain stopped around 3:00 a.m.
The silence that followed was louder than thunder.
Evans fell asleep listening to her heartbeat against his back.
And when the sun rose…
She was gone.
---
To Be Continued...
(Next: Chapter 2 – "Traces of Her")