Rain Brings Happiness
After a sweltering summer, a cold and damp autumn arrived, with biting winds and endless rain.
On her way home, exhausted by the wind and the dreary drizzle, Emily ducked into a supermarket to escape the weather and pick up something for dinner. It was warm, bright, and dry inside. She wandered slowly between the shelves, eyeing the packages.
Emily filled her basket with groceries. In the produce section, she grabbed a lemon and a bunch of grapes. She imagined curling up on the sofa, sipping hot tea with lemon, plucking ripe grapes from the stem, and popping them into her mouth. Maybe she’d even have a glass of wine to warm up faster.
She paused by the meat aisle, deliberating between sausages and deli slices. Right now, she’d happily eat both. She hadn’t had a bite since breakfast. Swallowing hard, she reached for the pre-sliced ham—no cooking required. Her hand brushed against another reaching for the same packet.
She jerked back, turned, and found herself facing a tall, handsome man. Stylishly cut black hair, just a hint of silver at the temples, warm brown eyes, full lips. And wearing a sleek black coat. Exactly her type.
“Sorry,” the man said, flashing a brilliant white smile.
*Good grief. He looks like he walked out of a magazine. What’s someone like him doing in a Tesco, buying ham?* Emily flushed at his smile. She forced herself to look away and stepped back from the shelf. *Stop gawking like a fool*, she scolded herself on the way to checkout.
She caught her reflection in the drinks fridge and cringed. *God, what a mess. What must he think of me? Not that it matters. Worlds apart.* She unloaded her groceries onto the conveyor. Someone placed identical items beside hers—including the ham.
She must have been staring too long because a voice beside her said, “Seems we have the same taste, don’t you think?”
Emily looked up into that handsome face and his gleaming smile.
“Hardly unique. Half the shoppers here have the same things,” she muttered, turning away, painfully aware she looked like a drowned rat.
“True enough,” he agreed.
*I’m windblown and frazzled, and he looks like he just stepped out of a salon.* She imagined running her fingers through his thick, springy hair and immediately checked herself. *Get a grip. Men like that aren’t for you.*
Emily packed her bags, paid, and resisted the urge to glance back as she headed for the exit. Outside, a gust of wind slapped her face, as if punishing her for hiding indoors. She’d forgotten how harsh it was. The door swung open behind her.
“Not exactly walking weather. Do you live nearby?” the handsome stranger asked, stepping out after her.
“Why?” Emily tensed.
“I’ve got my car. Could give you a lift.”
She hesitated. *He probably knows exactly how his looks affect women. Doesn’t seem like a creep.* But then, how many creeps had she met in her life? *This is the first*, she admitted. *So? Walk in the rain or take the ride? Don’t be daft—say yes before he changes his mind.*
*Even if he is a creep, at least he’s a good-looking one.* The thought made her smirk. They descended the steps, and he opened the passenger door.
“Here. Let me take your bag—easier to manage.”
The car was warm, dry, and quiet. He slid into the driver’s seat, turned the key, and the engine purred softly, like a tamed beast.
“Where to?” he asked, glancing at her.
“Oak Lane, number sixteen. Near the station,” Emily added.
“I know it,” he said, pulling away.
She stared ahead, watching the wind whip at pedestrians’ coats, flip umbrellas inside out, and tug at hoods. Every so often, she stole a glance at his hands on the wheel. He drove smoothly, grip firm. *So perfect. Stop fantasizing. He’ll drop you off, and that’ll be it.*
“I’m Oliver. And you?”
For a second, she considered a flippant reply but caught herself. *Why snap at him? It’s not his fault he’s gorgeous.*
“Emily.”
“Lovely name. There was a girl called Em in primary school. I promised to marry her.”
“Did you?”
“Well… it *was* primary school.”
Only then did Emily notice the soft music playing. Had it been on the whole time? Had she been so distracted by him she’d missed it?
She inhaled—leather and something else, crisp and warm. She shifted slightly, settling into the seat.
“Which building?” Oliver asked.
Emily blinked. They were already there. *Daydreaming again. Snap out of it.*
The car stopped, and she stepped out into the wind.
“Your groceries,” Oliver called, exiting the car to hand her the bag.
“Thanks,” she mumbled, avoiding his eyes as she hurried to the door.
Fumbling with her keys, she finally got inside and exhaled. The engine’s rumble lingered—he’d waited until she was safe.
*God, what a state I’m in*, she thought, catching her reflection in the lift mirror. *Men like that don’t stay single. Probably married to some goddess, with mini-mes running around. Just a ride. Forget it.*
She kept stopping at the supermarket after work, but the handsome stranger never reappeared.
Then, two days later, his car was parked outside her building. At first, she thought she was mistaken—she hadn’t memorized the plate, but the model was unmistakable. *Had she been hoping? Maybe he is a creep.*
Oliver stepped out.
“I’ve been waiting for you, Emily.”
“Why?”
“Couldn’t stop thinking about you.”
“Nostalgia for primary school?” *Why say that? Now he’ll leave.*
“Maybe,” he echoed, amused. “You’re only the second Emily I’ve ever known. Fate? It’s freezing—get in.”
She should invite him up. But why? Instead, she slid into the car, enveloped by that familiar scent and quiet music.
“Are you a student?”
“No, I work. An optometrist at the clinic,” she said proudly.
“Impressive. Giving people sight.”
“Just testing vision. And you?”
“Engineer. Dull stuff. Just finished work? Fancy a coffee?”
*Absolutely.* Only an idiot would refuse this man. Not just coffee—she’d go anywhere with him. But Emily had been raised proper. Coffee was safe.
They talked over cups, about nothing and everything. She melted under his attention, his smile. To keep her head, she asked bluntly:
“Are you married?”
He paused. “No. Divorced. You seeing anyone?”
“Not currently,” she said coyly.
He drove her home, took her hand, leaned in—
Emily froze, then yanked her hand free and bolted from the car.
In the lift, she cursed herself. *Such a catch, and you play hard to get?* Only on their third date did she invite him in. She kissed him in the hallway before he could even remove his coat.
Later, curled against him, she envied her own happiness. He never stayed the night. *Good.* Mornings weren’t her best look. But she lay awake, replaying every touch.
He visited twice a week, rarely overnight. She knew a man like him wouldn’t lack for company. Probably others like her. Or still married—no ring, but that meant little. When he was there, none of it mattered. When he wasn’t, she ached.
Months passed. She fell deeper, grew jealous of phantom women. She wanted him wholly.
Finally, she asked again: “Are you married?”
“I told you—divorced.”
“Then why no overnights? Why only see me sometimes?”
He sighed. “It’s complicated. My ex drinks. Badly. We don’t share a bed, but the flat’s mine. I can’t kick her out—she’d fall apart.”
Emily didn’t buy it. But breaking things off felt impossible.
She needed to confide in someone. The chance came when the head nurse stopped by her empty office.
“You’re too lovely to be single, Em,” the nurse said. “That new surgeon fancies you. Young, free, no baggage. Or is there someone? Not stringing you along, is he?”
Emily spilled everything.
“Sounds married, love. Handsome, you say? Fishy. Men don’t tolerate that. Want his address? I’ve a mate in the force.”
Two days later, an address landed on her desk.
She wrestled with it. Knowing would hurt—but could she walk away?
She waited, then confronted Oliver.
“Why can’t you just be happy?” he snapped. “We’re good as we are. No strings, just us.” He left angrily.
Emily sobbed. What if he never returned?
On her day off, she went to his address.She stood silently at his doorstep, the truth settling in her chest like a weight, before walking away into the rain, determined to finally let go.
