The Rain won't Last Forever

I first met Oliver when I was twelve and back then, he was still my older brother.

Angela Mortimer, on the other hand, was my adoptive mother.

After my parents passed away, my grandmother, having spent all her savings on a serious illness, was unable to support me.

It was during this time that Oliver’s mother offered to take me in, as a way to repay a past act of saving her life.

At that time, the Mortimer Family—three of them—had come to the island for a cheerful family vacation.

Angela couldn’t swim and was swept away by a wave while playing by the sea. My mother risked her life to rescue her and that’s how their bond began.

At the time, I was too young to remember much about it.

I only knew that gifts would occasionally arrive during holidays.

When news of my parents' death reached her, Angela came to the island herself.

“Emmy, don’t worry. I will take care of you as if you were my own child. Come with me.”

She was a remarkably kind person and almost without thinking, I placed my hand in hers and followed her.

It was my first time leaving the island, my first glimpse of a bustling city and my first encounter with Oliver.

The young man sat quietly by the window, absorbed in a book—clean and radiant.

He reminded me of the summer sea glistening under the sun, captivating and mesmerizing.

I felt a flutter in my heart. But still, I addressed him obediently.

“Brother.”

He closed the book, revealing a pair of charming teeth and smiled warmly.

“Long time no see, Emma.”

My foster mother enrolled us both in the same middle school and later, the same high school.

Oliver introduced me to all his friends and that’s how I met Luna.

Life with the Mortimer Family was, in fact, quite pleasant.

Angela, my foster mother, worried I might face hardships. So, she gave me a generous allowance—more money than I had ever seen.

I divided it into three parts: one third went to my grandmother, another was donated to secure some blessings for my parents in the afterlife and I kept a small portion for myself.

Despite this windfall, I remained as frugal as ever.

The wealthy kids at school couldn’t hide their disdain for me, the newcomer from the countryside. They would huddle in groups, snickering about the "fishy smell" they claimed I had and would dramatically pinch their noses whenever I walked by.

They would often gather in groups, remarking on the fishy smell they claimed I carried and would deliberately pinch their noses whenever I walked by.

Unable to hold back any longer, I grabbed a bucket of dirty mop water from the restroom and threw it all over them.

Just as their fists were about to land on me, Oliver appeared out of nowhere, wrapping his arms around me and shielding me from every blow.

He ended up with some bruises, but I was unscathed.

When Angela came to pick us up from school, Oliver and I stood in the hallway, laughing and joking, completely unbothered by our punishment.

I realized then that I had feelings for him.

What began as innocent affection during our growing years soon blossomed into something deeper as we spent more time together.

Even though I knew he treated me well only because of our adoption, because I was what he called his sister, this despicable emotion still grew increasingly uncontrollable.

Until he kissed Luna.

On the day of our high school graduation, our class organized a dinner party and played a game of Truth or Dare.

Oliver drew a card that required him to spin the wheel and kiss the designated girl on the cheek for ten seconds.

When the wheel's pointer landed on me, Oliver's embarrassment was visibly apparent.

"Emmy is my sister. It’s totally inappropriate for a brother to kiss his sister."

So he walked over, his ears turning a deep shade of red.

He leaned in with his cool, fragrant body and kissed Luna, who sat next to me with an expectant look on her face.

In those ten seconds of surrounding uproar, my heart shattered completely.

For the first time, I experienced the feeling of getting hopelessly drunk.

I wanted the alcohol to numb this heartache that made it hard to breathe.

Oliver, with a furrowed brow, carried me into the car and drove me home.

"Oliver, do you like Luna?"

He placed me on the soft bed in my bedroom, gently withdrawing his arm from beneath my neck.

Emboldened by the alcohol, I grabbed his collar and steadied my voice to ask him.

I wanted an answer.

Oliver didn’t reply. Instead, he reached out and smoothed my furrowed brow.

"Call me brother," he sighed.

"Be good, Emmy and get some sleep."

I refused to let go, gripping his hand tightly.

"Oliver, do you really not like me at all?"

The bedroom was dark, with only some dazzling moonlight spilling in by the window, casting a beautiful, hazy glow on him.

He remained silent, eerily quiet. Even if he told me he didn’t like me at all and only saw me as a sister. I would give up all my hopes immediately. But he didn't.

I ran out of patience. I pulled his body forcefully and pressed my alcohol-laced lips to his cool ones.

It was a moment of madness.