The rain hada way of softening the city's noise like it was trying to hide her tears.
Riah Chris stood beneath the flickering streetlamp,
its light trembling against the curtain of rain, shimmering like shattered glass stars.
Lucid City hummed softly around her — cars whispering through puddles, neon signs bleeding color into the mist — yet she felt completely alone. Her umbrella leaned uselessly against her leg as she tilted her face toward the sky.
Cold drops slid down her cheeks, washing over the tears she'd refused to cry.
A years had passed, and still, the ache hadn't dulled.
Her father's laughter once the loudest sound in their home was now just an echo that played in her head whenever it rained.
He had died when she was Twenty , taken by asthma — something so small, so ordinary, that it felt cruel to lose him to it.
She could still see it: the night his breathing slowed, the panic in his eyes, the helpless look on her mother's face.
That was the night the light left their house.
Riah wiped her face quickly, forcing a smile before anyone could see her pain.
She had become good at that — pretending to be okay, pretending the world didn't feel too heavy.
At twenty-one, she already carried the weight of too much loss.
By day, she worked as a children's nurse at Lucid General Hospital — gentle hands, warm smiles, the one everyone called Miss Sunshine.
And when her shift ended, she worked again at the pharmacy, at the clinic, anywhere she could earn enough to care for her mother.
Her mother, once lively and unstoppable, now lived in the quiet shadow of arthritis and rheumatism.
Her smile was still there faint but sincere though her body ached with every movement.
And through it all, Riah stayed: cooking, cleaning, helping her dress, helping her laugh.
"You don't have to do everything alone, Riah," her mother would whisper sometimes.
"I know," Riah would reply with that same tender smile, "but it's better if I do."
She never asked for help.
Never wanted pity.
She believed that if she kept working hard if she kept smiling maybe her heart wouldn't break again. ^ ^
——
But beneath that gentle smile was a woman of breathtaking beauty
the kind that made people stop mid-step.
She didn't have the kind of beauty that carried pain ,she had the kind that made people stop and stare,as if she'd stepped out of a fairytale and somehow forgotten to go back.
The kind that made people feel envious just for looking at her,the kind that felt graceful like time itself would slow down when she passed.
Her dark, smooth, petite body moved like poetry in motion, every curve and gesture effortless.
Her long blonde wolf-cut hair framed her face perfectly, strands brushing over her long, scanty lashes and softening the sparkle of her eyes.
When she smiled, that tender innocent smile it revealed her deep dimples that could melt even the hardest soul.
Her dark hazel eyes, glowing beneath the light, sometimes shifted to a deep brown from the side alluring, captivating, endlessly warm.
And then there was her scent — a soft trace of lavender mixed with chocolate straight out of the oven
soothing ,enticing and tempting all at once, like comfort wrapped in desire her tiny beauty marks beneath her eyes made her nose piercing glint even brighter,
catching the light whenever she turned her head.
Her body — curvy, soft, and striking — was the kind that made people look twice,
the kind that made men lose their words and women wonder how such grace could exist.
She had the figure that most would gym and pray for and yet, Riah never really believed she was beautiful.
To her, she was just Riah — the girl who smiled through storms and carried everyone's weight but her own.
The rain finally softened, its rhythm slowing to a whisper.
Riah exhaled, her breath fogging in the cold night air as she pulled her jacket closer.
She could still hear her father's voice sometimes — that gentle hum he used to do when fixing things around the house, or the way he called her "my little sunshine."
Now, all she fixed were broken smiles that weren't her own.
Her phone buzzed in her pocket — she didn't even need to check the name before answering.
"Riah, please tell me you're not standing out in the rain again,"
came Nessa's voice — half concern, half complaint, entirely Nessa.
Riah's lips curved.
"I'm… appreciating the weather," she said softly, already hearing the dramatic sigh on the other end.
"Appreciating? Girl, it's ten p.m., and you're appreciating hypothermia? Get inside before I drag you home myself!"
Riah laughed quietly, a sound that didn't quite hide the tiredness underneath.
"I'm on my way," she said, and ended the call before Nessa could continue.
By the time she reached the narrow apartment she shared with her mother, the rain had stopped.
Inside, the smell of herbal balm and chamomile tea greeted her — the familiar scent of her mother trying to be strong.
Her mother was asleep on the couch, her frail hand resting over her chest, breathing softly to the rhythm of the ticking clock.
Riah covered her with a blanket, brushing a kiss over her forehead before retreating to the kitchen
Lucid City glittered below — a place that never slept, yet felt lonelier than ever.
And in that glitter,
She poured herself tea, sat by the window, and looked out over Lucid City.
Its skyline sparkled like a thousand broken promises — beautiful from afar, lonely up close
Riah had only two lights that still shone for her:
her mother, and her best friend Vanessa Gray.
Nessa — her best friend since childhood,
Her other half.
The only constant that hadn't faded with the rain.
Riah sighed while staring at the window tomorrow , she'd wake up early she'd go to the hospital she'd smile at the kids, laugh at their silly jokes, and pretend she wasn't exhausted.
Because that's what she did — she kept going.
A soft knock at the door broke her thoughts.
She turned, startled, then opened it to find Nessa standing there — drenched from the rain, her umbrella half-broken, her grin wide as ever.
"Guess what?" Nessa announced, shaking water from her hair. "I just rescued a duck. And by duck, I mean me from drowning because you ignored my text!"
Riah couldn't help it — she laughed, really laughed this time.
"You're impossible."
"And you love me," Nessa said proudly, kicking off her soaked heels.
Her dark brown hair stuck to her skin, and her makeup was nearly gone, but she was still stunning — fierce, stubborn, glowing with the kind of confidence Riah secretly admired.
" stop being obsessive over me and move aside I'm exhausted from running under the rain "
Nessa was fierce and unapologetically wild.
She was slim yet curvy, her radiant pale skin glowing like moonlight even in the dimmest room.
Her long brown curls framed a face so striking it was hard to look away — deep black eyes that could drown you in a single glance, long full lashes, a sharp pointed nose, and cherry blossom lips that could pout one second and smirk the next.
There was something bewitching about her charming like a voodoo doll, dangerous in her confidence, and untamed by anything that tried to control her.
But behind all that strength was someone just as wounded as Riah.
Riah knew the truth: Nessa's world wasn't perfect either.
Her mother was gone, her father a shadow of himself — a man lost to the spell of a Conniving woman who was full of pretence and hate that house wasn't a home,
Her mother had died when she was young, and her father — once her hero — had become a puppet to his new wife.
A woman who smiled sweetly in public but dripped poison at home.
Nessa hated her, and the feeling was mutual.
The house that was supposed to be home became a place she escaped from — sometimes for days, sometimes for months.
She'd crash at Riah's place, filling the small apartment with laughter, complaints, and life.
And though Vanessa Gray was born into wealth, the daughter and heir to a vast company, she never wanted the crown that came with it.
She didn't want to be anyone's CEO.
She wanted to live freely, to find happiness where the world least expected it — in the warmth of Riah's small, imperfect world.
Because to Nessa, Riah wasn't just her best friend.
She was her home,her peace.
Your mom's asleep?" she asked, glancing toward the living room.
Riah nodded. "Yeah. Rough day."
Nessa sighed softly. "She's lucky to have you, you know that?"
Riah smiled faintly. "No. I'm lucky to still have her."
For a moment, silence filled the room — soft and gentle, like the calm after a storm.
Outside, the last drops of rain slid down the glass, catching the city lights like tears frozen mid-fall.
And in that fragile quiet, Riah whispered — maybe to herself, maybe to the night
"I just hope tomorrow feels a little lighter."
Nessa didn't say anything, just leaned her head on Riah's shoulder, the way she used to when they were kids.
Two girls against the world — one all warmth and spark, the other quiet and steady light.
Neither of them knew that tomorrow's fundraiser — the one Nessa had been begging Riah to attend — would change everything.