The rain started at 3:17 p.m.
Not a dramatic downpour. Just one quiet drop on Aria's left cheek as she locked her bicycle outside the old music shop. She blinked, wiped it away, and forgot it existed.
Inside, the air smelled of dust and piano keys. Mr. Han, the owner, waved from behind the counter. "You're early, kid."
"Bus was fast," Aria said, slipping off her yellow raincoat. She was seventeen, small for her age, with eyes that looked like someone had spilled coffee into clear water. Her hair was the color of wet sand, always falling into her face no matter how many times she pushed it back.
She worked Tuesdays and Thursdays. Her job: tune the upright pianos no one bought. Today, only one waited—a scratched black Yamaha with a cracked fallboard. Someone had carved a tiny heart into the wood, the lines uneven, like a child had done it with a house key. Aria traced it with her finger. The heart felt warm.
She sat on the creaky bench. Her fingers found middle C. The note rang out, lonely, like a single bird in an empty sky.
Then the door chimed.
A boy stepped in, dripping. Tall, messy black hair that stuck to his forehead in wet strands. Hoodie soaked through, clinging to his shoulders. He carried a red umbrella that leaked like a broken faucet, water pooling around his sneakers.
"Hi," he said, voice low but clear. "Do you fix umbrellas too?"
Aria laughed before she could stop herself. The sound surprised her—it had been weeks since she'd laughed like that. "Only pianos."
He smiled, and the shop suddenly felt warmer, like someone had turned on a hidden heater. "I'm Leo. I just moved into the blue house on Clover Street."
"I'm Aria. I live two blocks down. The white one with the crooked mailbox."
Leo placed the umbrella on the counter. Water spread across the wood like a tiny lake. "It's broken. Keeps flipping inside out. Like it's angry at the rain."
Aria glanced outside. The single drop had become a thousand, then ten thousand. The street blurred. "Maybe it's trying to protect you."
Leo looked at her—really looked. Not the polite kind you give strangers. The kind that makes you forget what you were saying. His eyes were dark green, like pine needles after rain.
Aria's heart did a tiny, traitorous flip. She looked down at the piano keys to hide it.
Mr. Han cleared his throat from the back room. "Kids, close up at six. I'm leaving early—my knees hate storms."
He shuffled out, tossing Aria the keys. The metal was cold in her palm.
Now it was just them. Rain hammered the roof like impatient fingers. The shop smelled of wet wool and old wood.
Leo rolled up his sleeves. "Mind if I watch you work?"
Aria shrugged, cheeks warm. "It's boring."
"Nothing with you in it is boring."
She focused on the piano so he wouldn't see her blush.
Note by note, she tuned. The Yamaha had been neglected—strings sharp, pedals sticky. Leo sat on the floor, back against the wall, legs stretched out. He asked questions like he genuinely cared.
"Do you play?"
"Only when no one's listening."
"Why?"
"Because music remembers things I want to forget."
Leo tilted his head. "Like what?"
Aria's fingers paused on a flat G. For a second, she couldn't recall her mother's laugh. The sound should have been there—bright, sudden, like wind chimes. But it was gone. Strange. She shook it off. "Nothing. Just… sad songs."
Outside, thunder rolled. The lights flickered once, twice.
Leo stood. "Walk you home? My umbrella's useless, but I'm tall."
Aria smiled. "Deal."
They stepped into the storm. Leo held the red umbrella over her even though it flipped inside out twice. Rain soaked his left shoulder completely. Water ran down his neck.
At the corner of Clover and Pine, lightning cracked. The sky turned white for a heartbeat.
Aria stopped.
A memory slipped away—like a photograph left in water. The edges blurred, then vanished.
She frowned. "I… forgot something."
"What?" Leo asked, rain dripping from his lashes.
"I don't know." Her voice sounded small, like it belonged to someone else.
Leo touched her elbow. "Hey. You okay?"
She nodded, but her chest felt hollow, like someone had scooped out a piece.
They kept walking.
The streets were empty. Puddles reflected the gray sky. Aria's sneakers squelched.
Leo said, "I used to hate rain. Now I don't mind it."
"Why?"
"Because it brought me here."
Aria's heart flipped again. She didn't know what to say.
At her gate, the white picket fence sagged on one side. The mailbox leaned like it was tired.
Aria turned. "Thanks for the broken umbrella."
Leo grinned. "Thanks for the music."
He leaned in—slow, asking.
Aria's first kiss tasted like rain and peppermint gum. His lips were warm, surprising against the cold. For three seconds, the world stopped.
She floated inside.
Upstairs, she opened her diary.
Blank page.
She stared.
*Why can't I remember what I did yesterday?*
Downstairs, the rain kept falling.
One drop.
Two.
Three.
Each drop took something.
---
Aria woke up to sunlight.
For a moment, everything felt normal. Then she tried to remember her dream. Nothing. Just a blank space where something should have been.
She sat up. Her phone buzzed.
**Unknown Number:**
*Morning. Still thinking about that kiss. – Leo*
Her stomach flipped. She saved the number as **"Umbrella Boy"**.
At school, the hallways smelled like wet sneakers and cafeteria pizza. Aria's locker was number 217. She opened it and stared at the photo taped inside—her and her mom at the beach last summer. Her mom's laugh should have been in her head. But it wasn't.
She slammed the locker shut.
First period was English. Aria sat in the back, doodling raindrops in her notebook.
The door opened.
Leo walked in.
Same hoodie. Same messy hair.
He scanned the room, found her, and smiled.
The teacher said, "New student. Leo Park. Take a seat."
He slid into the empty desk beside her.
"Hi, neighbor," he whispered.
Aria's pen rolled off the desk.
Leo picked it up. "You dropped this."
Their fingers brushed.
Static.
After class, he walked her to math.
"So," he said, "what's your favorite song?"
"'Clair de Lune.' But I can't play it anymore."
"Why not?"
"It makes me sad for no reason."
Leo nodded like he understood.
At her classroom door, he said, "See you at lunch?"
Aria nodded.
She spent the entire class staring at the clock. 11:47. 11:48. 11:49.
---
Lunch was chaos. Aria usually sat alone with her sketchbook. Today, Leo found her.
He carried two trays. "I got you fries. You look like a fries person."
She laughed. "How did you know?"
"Lucky guess."
They sat under the big oak tree. Rain from yesterday had left puddles.
Leo pulled out a tiny notebook. "I write lyrics. Bad ones."
"Read one."
He flipped to a page.
*"Rain on the window, your name in the glass / I trace it with fingers, but it doesn't last."*
Aria's breath caught. "That's… beautiful."
"It's about you," he said, then looked away, cheeks red.
A raindrop fell on Aria's hand.
She looked up. The sky was clear.
*Where did that come from?*
---
After school, Leo walked her home again. No umbrella this time.
Halfway there, the sky cracked open. Rain poured like someone had turned on a faucet.
They ran, laughing, to the bus stop shelter.
Inside, it smelled like wet metal.
Aria's hair stuck to her face.
Leo brushed it away. "You have a leaf in your hair."
He plucked it out.
Their faces were close.
He kissed her again. Softer this time. Longer.
When they pulled apart, Aria felt dizzy.
Leo said, "I have to tell you something."
"What?"
"I—"
Another raindrop. Inside the shelter.
Aria blinked.
Leo's face blurred.
She grabbed his hand. "Leo?"
He looked scared. "Aria, listen. Every time it rains—"
The world tilted.
---
Aria woke up in her bed.
Clock: 3:17 a.m.
Rain hammered the window.
She sat up, heart racing.
*What was I dreaming about?*
She opened her diary.
The page from yesterday was blank.
But there was a new entry in handwriting she didn't recognize:
**"If you forget me, find the red umbrella. – L"**
Aria stared.
Her phone buzzed.
**Umbrella Boy:**
*Are you awake?*
She typed:
*Who are you?*
Three dots.
Then:
*Someone who's running out of time.*
---
The next morning, Aria went to the music shop early.
The Yamaha was still there.
She opened the fallboard.
Inside, someone had carved new words beneath the heart:
**"Play for me when you remember."**
Aria's fingers trembled.
She sat.
Played the first notes of "Clair de Lune."
The melody came back like muscle memory.
But halfway through, her hands froze.
She couldn't remember the next part.
Tears fell.
*Why can't I remember?*
The door chimed.
Leo stood there, holding the red umbrella.
It wasn't raining.
"Aria," he said, voice breaking. "We need to talk."
"About what?"
"About why every time it rains, you forget a little more of me."
Aria's world stopped.
Leo stepped closer. "I'm not supposed to be here. Not like this."
"What does that mean?"
He took her hand. "I'm tied to the rain. The more you love me, the more it rains. The more it rains, the more you forget."
Aria pulled away. "That's crazy."
"Is it?" He pointed to the piano. "Play the song."
She tried.
Couldn't.
The notes were gone.
Leo's eyes filled. "Yesterday, you knew my name. Today, you asked who I was in a text."
Aria's chest hurt. "I don't understand."
"You will. But we don't have much time."
Outside, the sky darkened.
Thunder rumbled.
Leo said, "When the rain stops, I disappear. When you forget everything, I'm gone forever."
Aria grabbed his hoodie. "Then stop the rain!"
"I can't. Only you can."
"How?"
"By choosing."
"Choosing what?"
"To love me enough to remember… or to let me go."
The first drop hit the window.
Aria felt it—a memory slipping.
She looked at Leo.
His face blurred.
"Leo?" she whispered.
He smiled, sad. "Find the umbrella, Aria. Before the storm takes everything."
The rain poured.
Leo faded.
The last thing she saw was his hand reaching for hers.
Then—nothing.
---
Aria woke up screaming.
Her mom ran in. "Honey? Nightmare?"
Aria stared at her mom's face.
Couldn't remember her name.
She ran to the window.
The red umbrella leaned against the fence.
Soaked.
Open.
Waiting.
She opened her diary.
Every page blank.
Except one line in fresh ink:
**"The rain is coming. Remember me."**