It started raining outside—loud, pouring, merciless.
I stared at the sheets of rain hitting the glass.
"You didn't bring an umbrella," he said without looking up from his paperwork.
"How did you—"
"You never do."
I wanted to protest, but he was right.
I was terrible at checking the weather.
When I finally packed up to leave, he suddenly stood.
"Wait."
He walked to the back room and returned with a dark-colored umbrella.
"Take it."
I shook my head. "But then you—"
"I'm leaving later."
His eyes held mine steadily.
"You'll get soaked. Take it."
I held the umbrella tightly, warmth spreading across my chest.
"…Thank you."
He cleared his throat, looking away.
"Don't thank me. Just… be careful.
But his voice said something else.
He cared.
Maybe too much.