Neil didn't sleep that night.
Every time he closed his eyes, all he saw was her—standing in the rain, smiling like she was holding the whole sky together with nothing but willpower.
It haunted him. Not in a frightening way, but in the kind of way that leaves a mark. Like an unfinished lyric stuck in your head. Like a question without an answer.
Who was she?
He didn't believe in fate. He never had. But her smile didn't feel like chance. It felt... personal. Like it had been meant for him, even though she hadn't even seen him.
The next day, Neil returned to the same bench.
The rain was gone. The sky was clear and cruelly sunny. People filled the park again—kids running, couples walking hand in hand, laughter in the air. Normal life had returned. The magic of the stormy moment was gone.
But Neil stayed.
For hours, he waited. Hoping. Watching.
No white dress. No soft steps. No girl.
He opened his sketchbook, staring at the page where he'd drawn her smile. The lines were rough, smudged from the rain, but somehow that made it feel more real. More alive.
"Excuse me," a small voice said behind him.
Neil turned, heart stuttering.
But it wasn't her.
Just a little girl—maybe six—holding a balloon shaped like a star. She looked at his drawing, then at him. "She looks sad," she said quietly.
Neil blinked. "…She was smiling."
The girl tilted her head. "Yeah. But sad people smile the prettiest."
Then she walked away.
Neil sat back, stunned. He didn't know what surprised him more—the child's words or how right they felt.
He looked back at the drawing.
Sad people smile the prettiest.
He didn't know who the girl in the rain was. He didn't even know if he'd ever see her again. But something deep inside him stirred—an ache, a fire, a need.
He had to find her.
Even if he didn't know why yet.