Danna was explaining the presentation, but Garson's mind wasn't on her words. Instead, his eyes kept drifting to hers, lost in thought about something deeper than slides and facts.
The classroom around them was quiet—just the soft hum of the ceiling fan and the faint scrape of a chair from somewhere outside the open door. Afternoon light filtered through the dusty windows, casting long streaks across the whiteboard. Their table was cluttered with notebooks, a half-open laptop, and a few crumpled candy wrappers from hours of group work.
"Did anyone ever mention your eyes are kind of hard to ignore?" Garson said suddenly, his voice dry and unreadable, as if the words didn't matter.
"What?" Danna blinked, caught off guard, her pen frozen mid-air.
Garson glanced away quickly, realizing what he'd let slip. "Forget it," he muttered, standing. "I got the idea for the presentation. I'm leaving. See you tomorrow."
He walked off without another word, the soft thud of his footsteps fading into the hallway.
Danna sat in the chair they'd been sharing, her notebook open but untouched. The silence felt heavier now, like the classroom had absorbed his mood.
He's weird too, she thought, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. What was that even supposed to mean?
After all the classes ended, Natalia left with Aiden, leaving Danna on her own. She decided to head to the library, hoping to lose herself in some books.
The quiet space smelled of paper and old wood, filled with neat rows of shelves stretching toward the tall windows. Danna was scanning the titles, fingers brushing over the spines, when someone suddenly stood beside her.
"I think it's fate," a familiar voice said. "No matter how far I stay from you, Miss Coffee… somehow, you always find your way back to me."
Garson stood there, a smirk playing on his lips, eyes holding something unreadable.
"Again daydreaming," Danna said, rolling her eyes as she walked away from him, pretending she hadn't heard the meaning behind his words.
She wandered through the quiet library until a soft tapping sound caught her attention — raindrops. Gentle, steady, like a secret rhythm on the glass.
Drawn to it, she walked toward the tall window. Outside, the sky had turned a soft gray, and the rain began to fall in delicate sheets. She watched, silent... still.
And then, without even realizing it, tears slipped down her cheeks — slow, quiet, unnoticed by everyone... even herself.
Garson noticed. He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood there behind her, watching with a look she couldn't see.
After a long silence, Danna spoke softly, her voice barely above a whisper.
"Sometimes this rain takes a lot from us… and sometimes, it gives us peace. Even happiness."
Garson stayed quiet, but something in his eyes changed — like he finally saw her, not just the version she showed the world.
"Well… it does take a lot," he said quietly, almost to himself.
A single tear escaped the corner of his eye, but he didn't wipe it away.
Because in that moment, he was remembering Mike.
Danna kept her gaze fixed on the rain, her voice low, trembling like a secret slipping out.
"You know… rain calls me toward itself," she whispered, still unaware of the tears trailing down her cheeks. "But I'm scared… scared I might lose everything I have again."
Garson turned his head slowly, watching her — really watching her.
And for the first time… he saw it.
Her hazel eyes, usually calm and unreadable, were turning red — not from the rain, but from everything she'd been holding in for far too long.
He didn't speak.
Didn't dare to.
Because somehow, silence felt safer than anything he could ever say.
Danna blinked, realizing suddenly that her vision was blurry — not from the rain outside, but from her own tears. She wiped them away quickly, gathering herself as best she could.
Straightening her posture, she turned back toward the shelves, her expression calm once again, even if her heart wasn't. She gave Garson a small nod — barely there, but it said enough.
Then, without a word, she began walking toward the library exit.
Just as her hand touched the door, Garson's voice broke the quiet.
"Let me drop you, Miss Coffee," he said — casual on the surface, but not empty.
She paused, one foot still inside, one foot in the world beyond.
"Don't argue," he said, eyes meeting hers. "It's raining, getting transportation right now is a mess… and you just recovered."
His gaze lingered on her eyes — still a little red, still carrying the storm she hadn't meant to show.
For a second, neither of them spoke.
Danna looked up at him, her lips parting as if to argue — but no words came out.
Instead, she just gave the slightest nod. No sass, no sarcasm this time — just quiet acceptance.
Garson didn't smile, but there was something softer in his expression now, something unreadable in the way he looked at her. Without saying anything more, he pushed the door open and stepped out first, holding it for her.
The rain was still falling — gentle and constant — but somehow, the silence between them felt a little warmer now.
And for once… she didn't mind being dropped home.
The car ride was quiet except for the soft patter of rain against the windows. Garson drove steadily, eyes occasionally flicking to Danna, who stared out at the blurred city lights.
When they reached her building, he parked and waited as she gathered her things.
As they stepped out, the rain had eased to a drizzle, the air fresh and cool.
Garson walked her to her doorstep, the streetlight casting soft shadows around them.
He said nothing. Danna said nothing.
As Danna started walking toward the door, Garson stepped out of the car behind her, closing the door quietly.
He didn't rush to speak, letting the soft drizzle settle between them. Then, as she reached the doorstep, his voice broke the silence—low, almost a whisper.
"Rain will be beautiful one day, Miss Coffee. When you finally take the darkness out of your heart."
She didn't turn around. Just paused for a heartbeat, then slipped inside.
Garson stood there for a moment, watching her go, the weight of his words hanging between them like the last drops of a fading storm.
____________________________________________________________________________
The graveyard lay shrouded in a misty gray, the rain falling steadily like a soft curtain, blurring the edges of the weathered tombstones.
Patches of grass, dark and soaked, clung to the earth between cracked stone paths. Ancient trees, their bare branches twisted and skeletal, swayed gently in the cool wind.
Dim, flickering lanterns hung from iron posts, casting trembling pools of light on the wet ground, while the distant hum of the city felt miles away—like another world entirely.
The air was thick with the scent of damp earth and old memories, heavy and unyielding.
Amid this quiet, somber place, Garson stood alone, the rain soaking through his clothes as if trying to wash away the weight in his chest.
The rain fell gently around him, a steady rhythm on the cold earth. Garson knelt by a worn headstone, his breath visible in the chilly air.
With tears streaming down his face, his voice broke the silence, trembling but steady.
"Mom… are you sleeping nicely?"
The words hung between the rain and the quiet night — a fragile hope wrapped in pain.
Garson sank down beside the cold grave, rain soaking through his clothes as he stared at the weathered headstone.
His voice was low, cracked with grief.
"You know… that lady made Dad a stranger to me. He doesn't even recognize his own son anymore."
The words fell into the quiet, swallowed by the steady rhythm of the rain.
Garson's eyes glazed over as the memories flooded back—sharp and bittersweet.
He saw it clearly in his mind's eye: the day his mom died. The heavy silence in the hospital room, the steady drip of machines.
He was just 7 years old and luck already took his mom away from him.
His father, broken and lost, cradling Garson in his arms, tears streaming down both their faces — a rare moment of raw vulnerability and love. But then, barely a week later, everything changed.
His father remarried.
A new woman stepped into their lives, a stranger who soon became the reason for cold walls and distant glances. The warmth of that moment with his dad faded fast, replaced by a loneliness deeper than the graveyard's shadow.