The rain had been falling since dawn, a relentless drizzle that transformed the city into a mirror of silver and gray. Each drop drummed a muted rhythm against the windows, a constant pulse that seemed to echo Kylie's own uneasy heartbeat. She sat on the floor of her apartment, back pressed against the couch, knees drawn close, laptop balanced precariously in her lap. The screen glared at her like a silent judge, emails stacked unread, subject lines flashing in urgent red that she refused to acknowledge.
Her apartment smelled faintly of wet concrete from the street below, coffee long gone cold, and the faint tang of rain dripping through the slightly ajar window. Books leaned precariously on their shelves, some with bookmarks jutting like little flags of ambition and failure. Among them, a few framed photos of family and friends stared silently, accusing her of neglect, of distraction.
She pressed her fingers against the keyboard. The letters blurred. She wanted to write, to create, but nothing formed. Words felt inadequate, shallow, empty. Everything outside these walls—the city, the rain, the noise—seemed to hum a warning she couldn't name.
Another ping from her phone. She ignored it. Another. Then another. Client reminders, unknown numbers, her own calendar reminders… all shouting at her, but she sat still. Rooted. Waiting.
A soft knock at the door broke the tension like a blade.
"Come in," she said without looking up.
Matilde stepped in, rain dripping from her coat, hair clinging to her forehead. She had always been the opposite of Kylie: bold where Kylie hesitated, fearless where Kylie feared, grounded where Kylie floated. Matilde's eyes scanned the room, sharp and knowing, taking in the laptop, the scattered papers, the tension curling in Kylie's shoulders.
"You've been avoiding your messages again," Matilde said, leaning against the doorframe. Her tone wasn't accusatory, but it carried weight—familiar, piercing, unavoidable. "Do you even know what's waiting for you?"
"I don't care," Kylie muttered, eyes fixed on the window, watching rain smear the city into watercolor strokes. "Nothing matters yet."
Matilde raised an eyebrow. "Nothing matters? Or are you just scared?"
Kylie let out a dry laugh, bitter at its sound. "Maybe both. Probably both."
Matilde pushed back a strand of hair that clung to her temple. "Ignoring it won't make it go away. You're smart, Kylie, smarter than you give yourself credit for. But you have to face it. Eventually."
"Eventually is too late," Kylie said softly, almost to herself. Her eyes traced the raindrops racing down the glass, one merging into another, forming rivers she could neither stop nor control. "Everything moves faster than I can react."
Matilde didn't answer immediately. She simply sat beside Kylie, close enough to feel warmth radiating from her, letting the silence stretch between them. A silence heavy with history, with unspoken truths, with the unacknowledged fear of what was to come.
The rain outside thickened, hammering against the windowpane. It wasn't just a storm—it was a signal, a prelude. Kylie could feel it, a tightening coil in her chest, a restless energy that made her fingers itch for action she wasn't yet ready to take.
Her mind wandered, tracing the lines of every decision she had made in the last year—the small compromises, the tiny betrayals, the moments of courage that had gone unnoticed. She saw them now as threads in a web, a web she was only beginning to understand. And somewhere in that web was Dimitri. The name was a shadow she couldn't place yet, a pull she hadn't felt but would soon recognize.
Matilde leaned closer, her voice dropping to a whisper. "Whatever it is, whatever comes… you're not alone. Not this time."
Kylie wanted to believe her. She wanted to, desperately. But there was a war inside her chest between fear and desire, between caution and curiosity, between the safety of solitude and the pull toward something she couldn't yet name.
For the first time in hours, she allowed herself to breathe fully, letting the rain's rhythm seep into her veins, letting Matilde's presence anchor her. And she understood, with a sudden sharpness, that this day—this storm—was not just another day. It was the beginning.
Somewhere, beyond the gray streets, beyond the dripping sidewalks, the first piece of the storm was already moving. And Kylie, whether she wanted it or not, would soon be at its center.
She closed her eyes. The sound of the rain filled her ears. She inhaled. And she waited.
Because in this city, in this life, waiting was never an option.