Sam looked out of the window nervously, watching the storm rage outside. The wind battered the old building with a force that reminded him of the sinking Titanic—people staring straight at death, powerless to stop it. Ironically, that was exactly how Sam felt.
Wall hangings clattered to the floor, picture frames shattered, and the rope tied to his ceiling fan strained under his weight. At the end of it, Sam was gasping for the last few breaths of his life. His legs trembled violently, his neck hung forward, and yet fate wasn’t done with him.
Through the window, in the middle of that chaos, he saw her.
A girl, drenched in rain, dancing fearlessly.
Her white frock clung to her body, her hair bouncing in rhythm with the storm. She embraced the rain like an angel welcoming every drop of heaven. Sam’s suffocating breath stalled. For a fleeting moment, he forgot about death.
She was life itself—and he wanted to live.
Summoning his last ounce of strength, Sam slashed the rope with a sword he had once bought at an auction—King Ashoka’s relic, ironically intended to take his own life. Instead, it saved him.
Sam collapsed on his back, pale and breathless but alive. This was his tenth failed attempt at ending his life, and fate seemed determined to keep him breathing. Gasping for air, eyes still fixed on the girl outside, he staggered toward the stairs.
But his body was weak, and halfway down he collapsed, vision blurry yet desperate for one last glance of her.
A Dance in the Rain
Sophia.
That was her name, though Sam didn’t know it yet.
She danced with a carefree spirit, her every move defying the storm. When she finally sensed Sam’s presence, she turned. Rain clung to her lips like pearls, and when Sam’s thirsty eyes lingered, she teasingly drew them in with a smile—drinking the drops herself.
Her playful defiance shook Sam. He wanted to brush her wet hair from her face, to hold her close, but fear paralyzed him. Instead, he pretended indifference, turning his gaze away.
But she wasn’t done.
With a flick of her head, she sprayed raindrops across his face, daring him to break character. The cold drops burned like fire against his skin, forcing his eyes back to hers.
Deep, mysterious blue eyes.
Eyes that told stories without words.
For the first time, Sam felt seen.
The Silent Connection
She stopped dancing, watching his nervous attempts to steady his breath. Their eyes locked, their souls whispering things their lips couldn’t say.
Time seemed to freeze.
And then, with the faintest smile, she looked away. Both pretended nothing had happened, but both knew everything had changed.
The air between them pulsed with something raw and electric. Her long earrings brushed against her neck, teasing Sam with the dream of a kiss he wasn’t brave enough to take.
Then—
A voice shattered the spell.
“Sophia!”
It was an old woman’s cracked voice, sharp like a horror movie character. Wrinkled, frail, and unsettling, she appeared from the doorway, urging Sophia back inside.
For Sam, it was shocking to think they were even related. But Sophia’s reply was light, almost giggling:
“I’ll be there in a minute.”
Her laugh was melody. For a man who had just tried to die, that laugh was life itself.
The Name Exchange
Sam couldn’t help but smile, as if God himself wanted him to know her name. Sophia caught the curve of his lips and raised an eyebrow, teasing: “Now that you know my name… what’s yours?”
At first, Sam hesitated, pretending not to understand. But something had changed in him—the knowledge that she liked him too gave him courage.
She rolled her eyes playfully and turned to leave, but just as she stepped away, Sam called out:
“Sam. My name is Sam Martinez.”
Sophia froze for a second, then smiled—a secret smile. She tapped her fist against her chest in triumph as she ran back toward her house.
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