The morning sun was an intruder, cutting through my blinds with clinical indifference. My alarm blared—a harsh, buzzing sound I chose specifically because it was impossible to ignore.
BEEP. BEEP. BEEP.
I slammed my hand down on the snooze button. Silence.
For a few seconds, the dream still clung to me. A memory of laughing in a neon-lit arcade. The scent of vanilla and sugar. The weight of a small, warm hand in mine.
Then, reality flooded in, cold and sharp.
It was morning.
She was gone. Not gone from the world, but the Sina I knew yesterday—the Quest-Companion, the dance champion, the girl who hugged a stuffed bear with victorious joy—had been erased. Replaced by a blank slate.
My chest felt hollow, a familiar, morning ache. On my nightstand, next to the screeching alarm clock, sat the tiny, googly-eyed cat keychain. It stared up at me, a relic from a lost civilization. The civilization of Day 78.
I rolled out of bed, the motions automatic. Shower. Uniform. A piece of toast I didn't taste.
My phone buzzed. It was Zeke.
Agent Pineapple: Status report? Is the mission a go? Or are we retreating to sad-boy island today?
He always checked. On the bad days, the ones where the ache was too much, I'd just text back a single word: Abort. He'd understand. He'd cover for me at school and bring over junk food later.
But today... today wasn't a sad-boy island day. I looked at the keychain again. I remembered her laugh.
Me: Mission is a go. But we're ditching the feline prophecy. Need a new approach.
Agent Pineapple: Roger that. Operation: Whatever Crazy Thing You Think Of Next is a go. I'll be on standby near the gates. Ready to cause a distraction / be a human shield / fake an alien invasion.
A small smile touched my lips. He was an idiot. But he was my idiot.
I grabbed my bag and headed out, the hollowness in my chest warring with a spark of nervous anticipation.
This was the worst part. The walk to school. My mind was a battlefield. Every corner reminded me of a different "first" meeting. The bakery on the corner? That was Day 12's "accidental" cake tasting. The little bookshop? Day 34, where I "dropped" a book by her favorite obscure author.
A thousand tiny ghosts of moments she would never know. It was like walking through a graveyard of my own heart.
But as I got closer to the school, the despair began to recede, replaced by a sharp, focused energy. My eyes scanned the sky. It was overcast, a solid, slate-grey blanket. The air was heavy, damp. Rain was coming.
An idea began to form. It was stupid. It was theatrical. It was perfect.
I stopped at a small convenience store and bought a cheap, clear plastic umbrella and a pack of gummy bears. Tucking them into my bag, I quickened my pace.
When I reached the school gates, I saw her.
She was standing under the cherry blossom tree, the same place she was yesterday. Her lilac hair was a soft splash of color against the grey, dreary day. She was alone, looking up at the sky with a curious, slightly worried expression, as if trying to decide if she'd make it to the school entrance before the clouds broke.
She wasn't holding a stuffed bear.
The sight sent a familiar pang through my chest. Agent Blue was probably sitting in her room, a complete mystery to her this morning. Another piece of an unsolvable puzzle.
My resolve hardened.
"Zeke," I muttered into my phone. "Phase one."
"Copy that," he replied. "Commencing Operation: Clumsy Distraction."
I watched as Zeke, on the other side of the courtyard, pretended to trip over his own feet with the dramatic flair of a Shakespearean actor. He went down hard, his bag flying open and scattering a dozen notebooks across the pavement.
CRASH! FLUTTER.
"OH, THE HUMANITIES!" he wailed.
Several students, including Sina, turned to look. Their attention was on the chaotic orange-haired boy flailing on the ground.
That was my window.
I walked calmly, deliberately, until I was standing just a few feet behind Sina. She hadn't noticed me. She was still watching Zeke, a look of amused pity on her face.
I took out the clear umbrella and opened it with a decisive POP.
Then I waited.
A few seconds later, it happened. The first fat, cold drop of rain hit my umbrella. Then another. And another. Within moments, a gentle but steady drizzle began to fall.
DRIP. DROP. PATTER-PATTER-PATTER.
Students around us gasped and started running for cover. Sina let out a small "eep!" and instinctively covered her head with her book.
I took a step forward, positioning the umbrella so it covered both of us. The rain drummed softly on the plastic above us, creating a small, intimate dome of sound and shelter.
She flinched, surprised by the sudden shield. She turned, her head tilted up, and her amber eyes met mine.
She saw a stranger. A boy with sleepy grey eyes holding an umbrella over her head.
My heart started its familiar jackhammer rhythm. Here we go. Day 79. First contact.
"You looked like you could use an amateur meteorologist," I said, my voice steady, betraying none of the chaos in my chest.
Her surprised expression softened, replaced by curiosity. A small smile touched her lips. "An amateur meteorologist?"
"Yeah," I said, pointing up at the sky with my free hand. "I predicted a 100% chance of you almost getting rained on, followed by a high probability of a well-timed rescue by a handsome and ridiculously prepared stranger."
The corner of her mouth twitched. She was hooked.
"Handsome and ridiculously prepared, huh?" she repeated, a challenge in her voice. "That's a bold forecast."
"I stand by my science," I said gravely. Then I reached into my pocket and held out the small bag of gummy bears. "I also foresaw a sudden need for emergency rations. For morale."
She looked from the gummy bears to my face, and then she laughed. A soft, clear laugh that cut right through the grey, rainy morning.
It wasn't the same laugh as yesterday. It was new. It was a first.
And it was just as beautiful.
B-thump. B-thump.
The hollow space in my chest started to fill up again.
The ghost of Day 78 faded, replaced by the vibrant, present reality of this exact moment.
"Okay, Mr. Meteorologist," she said, taking a red gummy bear from the bag. "You were right about the rain. Let's see if you're right about the rescue."