Under different circumstances, he would've loved the rain. He would have enjoyed the pitter-pattering of the raindrops, the chill it brings and the memories it reminds him. He would have smiled as he look up to the grey sky, thanking the heavens for a beautiful shower.

It has been ten years.

Looking back, rainy days were bad days for Kai. He hated the rain. He hated the gloomy feeling whenever the sky is grey. He hated how the rain washes away the beauty of things when they get wet. He hated the cold, angsty vibe the rain gives.

But it changed ten years ago. He started liking the rain. The rain reminded him of red locks, of hot cup of coffee, of beautiful paintings and candid photographs. The rain reminded him of strength, of vulnerability, of positivism. The rain reminded him of metaphors. The rain reminded him of life. New life.

The rain reminded him of so many things. It kept him from quitting med school again whenever he felt defeated. It kept him from loathing his parents every time they argue. It calmed him on a very bad day, and relaxed him on a stressful and tiring one. He would sit by his window, a warm cup of drink in hand, a particular black book in another, and just stare at the raindrops falling down on the roofs. He does his therapy that way.  He heals that way. The rain soothed him, and healed him.

And most of all, the rain reminded him of angels, gifts given to him from heaven.

Under different circumstances, he would've smiled. But not today.

He ran towards the nearest building he saw as soon as the drizzle turned into something stronger. He was walking briskly along the busy street, trying to catch an appointment he nearly forgot, when it started pouring. The chimes echoed in the nearly-empty cafe as he went inside. He sat by the window, thinking about waiting there until the heavy pouring stops. He might as well eat a late luncheon on that lazy afternoon.

His eyes scanned his surroundings for the first time. Elegant is the vibe it gives off. The aroma of coffee is wafting throughout the atmosphere, the sweet smell of bread and pastries lingering. Though he has not been there, the whole place screams France.

He ordered his usual espresso and an almond croissant. Silently and slowly eating his meal, he glances out the window from time to time to check if the rain had already stopped. But the sky seemed to pour out harder as minutes passed. He sighed. At this rate, he is going to miss his appointment.

He took out his phone and called the first person in his speed dial. He tapped his right foot as he waits patiently for his call to get through the line, a habit he could never remove.  But something or someone -  caught his eyes. He became speechless. He couldn't hear the person calling out to him from the other line. His mind went blank and his hand started shaking so bad that he needed to hang up his call. He was confused, utterly bewildered at what he is seeing at the moment. Maybe he is in a dream, and if he is, he didnt want to wake up.

He saw her come out from the kitchen, a fancy apron hanging on her waist. Her hair is tied, neatly secured into a braid behind her head. A few traces of flour is evident on her, making it obvious that she was pulled out in the middle of her baking. She aged a little but the past years made her so much more beautiful than he could remember. Yet still, she has a face of an angel.

She was escorted by if he is not mistaken is the barista