Lena's pov
The rain was still falling when I woke up. Not the cold heavy downpour from last night, just a warm soft, steady patter against the windows.
It should have been comforting. I'd always liked mornings like this, when the world seemed to move a little slower. But all it did was drag me back to that drive last night, to Dominic sitting in my passenger seat, rain dripping down his face, and that quiet voice I just….hope.
I pushed the thought away and swung my legs over the bed to get up and start the day. Busy day ahead. No time for the ghosts from my past.
********
By the time Eliana came bouncing into the kitchen, the smell of toast and sausages filed the air.
Mommy, guess what?" She slid into the chair across from me, eyes wide.
I braced myself. "What?"
She barely paused for breath as she launched into a detailed recap of yesterday's art showcase — how she'd painted her lion, how the teacher said it looked "fierce," how everyone clapped.
"And Uncle Dom clapped the loudest," she added proudly, like that was the most important part.
I forced a smile and reached for my coffee. "I'm glad you had fun."
I swallowed hard, my coffee suddenly tasting bitter. I didn't want to dim her excitement, but I couldn't ignore the tight knot in my chest either. Dominic had a way of slipping into people's hearts before they realized what was happening. I'd learned that the hard way.
She grinned, chewing her toast. "He said I should keep painting lions. That they're my thing now."
The knot in my chest tightened. Dominic had always been good at this — finding the exact right thing to say so someone felt special. I remembered how it used to feel when it was me.
And I remembered what happened after.
********
The day passed in a blur of customers, deliveries, and the constant chime of the shop door. By mid-afternoon, I'd finally settled into the familiar rhythm of shelving books and rearranging displays.
That's when I noticed it.
An envelope, taped neatly to the front door with my name written in boldly and neat deliberate handwriting I recognized instantly. Dominic
I glanced up and down the street — no sign of anyone watching — before carefully peeling it free and opening it.
Inside was a gift card to Art & Wonder, the little art supply shop three blocks over.
Tucked behind it was a note, scrawled on a small piece of paper:
"For the cub who draws lions. – D."
My thumb lingered over the initial. It was… subtle. Not the grand, sweeping gestures he'd once used to win me over. This was smaller, quieter, sweet. Thoughtful in a way that felt dangerously personal.
I hated how my chest warmed before my brain caught up. I didn't need the initial to know.
My fingers curled around the card, the paper warm from where I'd been holding it too long. Which made it hard for me to hate him and restrict him from coming around.
All afternoon, the envelope sat on the counter beside the register. Every time I passed it, I told myself it meant nothing. But part of me — the part I wished I could silence — kept picturing him standing in the rain, choosing not to knock, not to force a conversation.
By closing time, the sky was darker than usual, the streetlights casting a golden glow on the wet asphalt. I locked up, the familiar rattle of the door echoing in the quiet street.
That's when I saw him.
He was across the road, leaning against his car. No umbrella. No hands in his pockets. Just standing there like he had nowhere else in the world to be. Hands crossed.
Our eyes met. The noise of the city seemed to fade.
He didn't come closer. Didn't speak. Just gave me a small smile and a deliberate nod — one that said I'm here, but I'm not pushing. I'm waiting. Patiently
Then he got into the car and drove off, the red of his taillights disappearing into the rain.
I stood there far longer than I should have, the envelope warm in my hand.
It was just a gift card. Just a man across the street.
So why did it feel like something I couldn't put down?