Ch. 1: A Stranger in the Rain

If someone had told her a year ago that she would be standing here, she would have laughed.

She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. There was a history between them that neither would name, written in the things they did not do. The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered.

The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered.

The conversation turned, the way conversations do, from the easy things to the ones that mattered. For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more.

He had built his whole life on being certain. She had a way of making certainty feel like a cage.

She remembered the first time, and the last, and all the ordinary days in between that had somehow mattered more. Nina crossed the room slowly, aware of every step, of the way he was watching without seeming to.

For a heartbeat the careful distance between them thinned to nothing at all. "I'm not asking you to forgive me," Nina said. "I'm asking you to listen."

And somewhere beneath the fear, quiet and stubborn, something like hope began to grow.