The night was drowning in rain.
Thunder cracked across the sky as if the heavens themselves were angry. In the middle of the deserted road, under flickering streetlights, a young man fell to his knees.
"Please… don't kill me… I swear I didn't do anything… I didn't kill her… please…"
His voice trembled, breaking against the sound of the storm.
Standing before him was another man — silent, unmoving. Rain streamed down his face, but it wasn't the rain that made his eyes shine. It was pain. A pain so deep it had turned cold.
He stepped closer.
"Was she crying like this?" he asked quietly.
His voice wasn't loud. It didn't need to be.
It carried something far more terrifying than anger — it carried heartbreak.
"Did she beg you to let her go… and you didn't?"
The man on the ground shook his head desperately, fear swallowing his words.
A gunshot echoed through the night.
And then there was only rain.
The standing man lowered his hand slowly, breathing heavily, as if the weight on his chest hadn't lessened at all. Revenge didn't feel victorious. It felt empty.
He picked up a fallen phone from the wet pavement.
On the screen was a Polaroid picture — a girl smiling softly, her eyes full of life. The edges of the photo were stained, blurred by rain and something darker that refused to wash away.
His fingers trembled.
Moments later, he stood at a sink, staring at his reflection. Water splashed against his face, cold and sharp. But when he looked up—
He didn't see the broken man in the mirror.
He saw her.
The memory crashed into him like thunder.
A bright afternoon.
Two strangers reaching for the same book.
Fingers brushing.
Awkward laughter.
Two laughing souls meeting for the first time.
The world had seemed lighter that day — as if heaven itself had paused just to bless their beginning.
And now?
The same heaven wept.
Rain poured harder outside.
And somewhere between love and revenge, destiny had already chosen its side.