Love Ends in the Rain

I stumbled home at 4 a.m., soaked and dizzy from a fever, barely keeping myself upright against the bathroom door.

At the staircase, I noticed a pair of women's heels.

'Terence brought someone home?' My heart skipped, then settled.

It didn't matter. I was leaving him.

My feet were blistered, my legs heavy as lead. Steam filled the bathroom, my vision blurring as a tear hit my hand.

I remembered meeting Terence in a cold rain years ago.

Lester's cheating and abuse drove my mom to jump, leaving me with PTSD that flared on rainy days.

I suffered from shaking, anxiety, insomnia, and even self-harm.

During a breakdown, I collapsed on the street, and Terence carried me to the hospital.

When I met him again, it was at school.

He spotted my law book and grinned, "You gonna be a lawyer? Can I hire you for my cases?"

I studied law, and he studied finance.

We fell in love, and after graduation, I became his company's go-to lawyer, winning case after case.

As I turned off the shower, a hand grabbed mine. "Back already? Why didn't you call?"

Terence wrapped a towel around me, pulling me close. "Don't be mad about today. Work has been a mess, and you were giving me attitude. I lost my temper."

He brushed my wet hair and kissed my ear, briefly resembling the caring husband I once knew.

He continued, "I told you to walk home as a joke. I sent the driver back for you after dropping Marie off, but he couldn't find you. Your phone was off."

"So, you just stopped looking?" I asked, my heart tightening.

He froze, then shrugged. "You made it back fine, didn't you?"

His casual words cut like a blade. His kindness was all a façade.

I pushed him away and turned to face him. "That was a highway in a storm. I could have died there."

He frowned, his voice hardening. "I'm trying to make peace. How long are you gonna keep this up? Your PTSD's under control, right? It's been 16 years. It's just rain. It won't kill you."

I gripped the towel, biting my lip. "Why didn't you tell me your new assistant was Marie?"

"Because I knew you'd flip out," he said dismissively. "It's been years. Let it go. Marie didn't do anything wrong."

Unwilling to rehash the past, I walked to my room, opened the door, and froze.

Marie was in my bed, her nightgown slipping off her shoulder, revealing faint marks on her neck.

"Lena, you're back," she muttered, rubbing her eyes and sitting up.

My blood ran cold, and I spun around to gape at Terence.

"It was raining too hard," he explained. "Marie couldn't get home, so she crashed here.”

"Crashing here means you had to sleep with her?" I sneered.

"Whoa, hold up!" Marie jumped up. "I just liked your mattress better than the guest room's. Terence was in his study all night. We didn't do anything."

She reached for my hand, fake tears in her eyes. "I was waiting for you so we could catch up. It's been so long."

Her touch unleashed a flood of memories.

"Why didn't you jump with your mom? Always moping like a zombie. Your dad's mine now. You'll never win. Your mom looked so ugly when she died. Didn't it give you nightmares?"

"She is not my sister, just a clingy bad-luck charm!"

"Real talk: your mom was too slow to jump, so I gave her a scare. I didn't touch her. She slipped and fell."

"Go ahead and tell everyone. You've got no proof."