Chapter 13 — Walking Without Hurry
The next day arrived quietly, without urgency.
Morning classes passed like soft waves—notes written, pages turned, teachers explaining lessons that felt lighter than usual. Luca sat by the window as always, watching clouds drift lazily across the sky. They were heavy today, swollen with rain, but not threatening. Just… patient.
Anaya noticed them too.
She caught him glancing outside more than once, his gaze thoughtful, distant in that familiar way of his. Not detached—just observant, like someone who listened more to the world than he spoke to it.
When the final bell rang, the classroom exhaled.
Bags were slung over shoulders, chairs scraped back, voices rose in overlapping excitement. Noah and Anvi waved them goodbye, already caught up in their own chatter about snacks and homework. Promises were made—tomorrow, for sure—and then the four split at the school gate.
Luca and Anaya walked side by side, unhurried.
The road outside the school was familiar to both of them now. Trees lined the footpath, their leaves darkening under the thickening clouds. Shops were beginning to glow with warm yellow lights, and the air carried that unmistakable scent—the one that came just before rain. Dust, earth, anticipation.
Anaya adjusted the strap of her bag and glanced at Luca. “It feels like it’s going to rain.”
He nodded. “It does.”
They walked a few steps in silence, their footsteps naturally matching without effort. It wasn’t something either of them noticed consciously anymore—it just happened.
The first drop fell.
Then another.
Soft, spaced out, barely enough to notice unless you were paying attention.
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Anaya looked up instinctively, letting a few drops land on her forehead. Luca slowed slightly, glancing at her, as if expecting her to break into a run or suggest shelter.
She didn’t.
Instead, she kept walking. Same pace. Same calm.
The rain grew steadier, no longer shy. Tiny ripples formed on the road, and the scent of wet earth bloomed fully now, rich and grounding.
“You know,” Luca said after a moment, his voice low, thoughtful, “most people run when it rains.”
Anaya smiled faintly. “Do you?”
He shook his head. “Not really.”
They passed a small tea stall, its owner hurriedly pulling down plastic sheets. A few students dashed past them, laughing, shoes splashing through puddles.
Anaya noticed Luca watching them—not with judgment, not with envy. Just observing.
She realized something then.
He wasn’t afraid of the rain.
He simply didn’t see the point in escaping it.
The rain soaked deeper now, dampening their hair, clinging lightly to their uniforms. Still, Anaya didn’t speed up. She stayed exactly where she was—beside him.
Luca noticed.
He slowed his steps just a fraction, testing. She adjusted without thinking.
That was when he smiled.
Not the small, controlled curve of lips he usually wore.
A real one.
Soft. Genuine. Almost surprised.
“You know what?” he said, rain threading through his voice. “It’s about who stands in the rain with you, when they have a choice to be dry.”
Anaya turned to look at him properly now. His hair was already damp, droplets tracing slow paths down his jaw. He wasn’t looking at the road anymore—he was looking at her.
She didn’t hesitate.
“If I’m with you,” she said, her voice warm and certain, “I won’t want to be dry. With you, I feel happy even when fully drenched.”
For a moment, Luca forgot the sound of rain.
Something settled in his chest—quiet, steady, undeniable.
He let out a small breath that almost sounded like a laugh. “Maybe… finally I’ve got someone who understands me.”
Anaya nudged his arm lightly, playful but firm. “You should stop saying maybe.”
He looked at her again, really looked this time, and the rain no longer felt cold.
They continued walking, shoes soaked now, uniforms clinging uncomfortably—but neither of them cared. The world around them softened, blurred slightly by rain and motion.
Luca thought about how, before Anaya, he would have walked this road alone. Same rain. Same trees. Same stalls closing up.
But it would’ve felt heavier.
Now, even silence feels full.
Anaya, meanwhile, found herself noticing small things she never had before—how Luca stepped slightly closer when a bike passed too near, how he avoided puddles without making it obvious, how his presence felt… steady. Like standing near a wall during a storm.
“You’re different today,” she said suddenly.
He raised an eyebrow. “Different how?”
“Smiling more,” she replied. “Not hiding it.”
He considered that. “Maybe I stopped needing to.”
They slowed near a crossroads where their paths would soon separate. Rain still fell, but gentler now, like it was listening.
Anaya stopped first.
“This is my turn,” she said, pointing ahead.
Luca nodded, hands in his pockets, reluctant without knowing why. “Yeah.”
Neither moved.
The rain filled the pause.
“Tomorrow?” Anaya asked.
He smiled again. “Tomorrow.”
She took a step back, then another, walking away slowly. After a few steps, she turned around.
“Luca?”
“Yes?”
“Don’t change this,” she said softly. “You.”
He held her gaze. “I wasn’t planning to.”
She smiled—bright, unguarded—and then she was gone, footsteps fading into the rain.
Luca stood there a moment longer, letting the water soak into his sleeves, his thoughts quiet for once.
For the first time in a long while, he didn’t feel like he was walking alone.
And the rain—
the rain felt like it understood that too.
