It began with thunder.
Not loud — just a low, distant rumble that trembled through the sky like a held breath. The wind whispered warnings through the banana trees, and the clouds rolled in like waves of unspoken things.
Amara stood in front of her kiosk, staring at the empty street. She hadn't seen Dimeji in three days. Not even from afar.
She tried not to hope.
She failed.
As the first drops fell, she didn't run inside. Instead, she stepped into the open, letting the rain fall across her skin — cold and honest.
And that's when she saw him.
Walking slowly from the end of the road.
Soaked.
Breathing hard.
Eyes locked on her like the only light in the storm.
She didn't move.
Neither did he.
Until they stood face-to-face — rain between them, history soaking through their clothes.
"I read your note," he said, voice barely rising above the storm.
"Then why did you keep hiding?" she asked, her throat tightening.
"Because I thought I lost you," he said. "That night at The Pearl… you looked so sure. Like you'd found something I couldn't compete with."
She stepped closer. "You thought I'd choose a man who only remembered me once I became someone worth noticing?"
"I thought maybe… I wasn't enough."
Amara's hands curled into fists at her sides. "And you left. Without asking. Without fighting. That's what broke me."
His voice cracked. "I didn't know how to stay when I was scared."
"And I didn't know how to reach for you when I felt abandoned," she whispered.
They stood there, shivering, not from cold — but from the weight of too many almosts.
Then, slowly, she lifted her hand and pressed it against his chest.
"I never stopped choosing you, Dimeji. Even when I was confused. Even when I was angry. I waited — and you made me wait alone."
He closed his eyes, a tear mixing with rain.
"I'm sorry," he breathed. "I didn't know how to believe someone like you could love someone like me."
She stepped even closer now, voice shaking. "Then learn. Learn to believe it. Or I'll walk away — for good this time."
The thunder cracked above them. But Dimeji didn't flinch.
He leaned in slowly, gently, resting his forehead against hers.
"I'm still afraid," he whispered. "But I'd rather be afraid beside you… than brave without you."
And then she kissed him.
Not sweetly. Not carefully.
But with every word they never said.
Every sketch he couldn't finish.
Every bench left empty.
Every drop of rain that had ever fallen between them.
When they pulled apart, she smiled through her tears. "Next time, don't disappear."
"Next time," he said, "don't let me."