Layla in middle school, was a complete 180 from Layla now. she was a quiet girl with her nose always buried in books, doodling in the margins of her notebooks when she wasn't studying. Back then, she didn't speak much, preferring to stay in the background where the noise and drama of school couldn't reach her.
She wasn't invisible, though. People knew her as the girl with perfect grades, the one who teachers relied on to help organize events or assist struggling classmates. But to Layla, it felt like her presence barely registered beyond that. She was fine with it—she liked her quiet corner of the world, where no one asked too many questions.
Aaron, on the other hand, was beginning to rise in popularity. He wasn't the confident soccer star he would later become, but people were starting to notice him. He had an easygoing charm that drew others in, whether it was his teammates on the soccer field or classmates who laughed at his jokes. Layla had noticed him, too—not because of his rising status, but because he always seemed to forget his umbrella.
It was a particularly rainy fall that year, and Layla often saw him walking home, his hoodie pulled up, the rain soaking through his clothes. He never complained, not even when his shoes squelched with every step in the hallways the next day. Something about it tugged at Layla's heart.
The first time she left him an umbrella, it wasn't a grand plan. It was just... a moment. She had been organizing books in the library after school when she spotted him outside through the window. The rain was coming down in sheets, and there he was, waiting under the overhang, his head tilted back as if he could will the rain to stop.
Her fingers had hovered over the umbrella in her bag. She hesitated, debating. Would he think it was weird? Would he even use it? In the end, she scrawled a quick note on a scrap of paper—"Take this. You'll catch a cold."—and slipped the umbrella onto the bench where he always left his bag before soccer practice. Then she hurried out of the library, her heart pounding in her chest.
The next day, she saw him with the umbrella, a puzzled look on his face as he examined it. He didn't mention it to anyone, at least not where she could hear. But when she saw him use it again the following week, she felt a small, warm glow in her chest.
It became a habit after that. Whenever it rained, Layla made sure to leave an umbrella for him. She never signed her notes, and she never stuck around to see his reaction. It was enough to know that he wasn't walking home drenched.
High school didn't change that part of her. By then, Layla had transformed into the school's rebel queen, with her leather jackets, sharp eyeliner, and a motorcycle that turned heads. But some things stayed the same. She still doodled in the margins of her notebooks, still cared more than she let on, and still left Aaron umbrellas when the rain came.
One particularly stormy afternoon, the parking lot was nearly empty as Layla walked to her bike, the rain pattering against her jacket. She had left an umbrella for Aaron that morning, slipping it onto the bench outside the locker room like always. As she adjusted her helmet, she noticed him leaning against his car, his arms crossed and the familiar umbrella in his hand.
"Hey," he called out, his voice cutting through the rain.
Layla froze, her heart skipping a beat. She turned slowly, trying to play it cool. "Hey."
He held up the umbrella, a small smile tugging at the corners of his mouth. "You know, these keep showing up at the perfect time. Kind of makes me wonder."
Layla shrugged, forcing a smirk. "Must be your guardian angel or something."
Aaron chuckled, his eyes studying her. "Yeah, maybe."
For a moment, they just stood there, the rain filling the silence between them. Then he pushed off the car and held the umbrella out to her. "Here. You're gonna get soaked riding in this."
Layla hesitated, her rebellious pride warring with the warmth of his gesture. Finally, she shook her head. "I'll be fine."
Aaron didn't press the issue. Instead, he opened the umbrella and stepped closer, holding it over both of them. "At least let me walk you to your bike."
The gesture was simple, but it made something flutter in Layla's chest. She glanced at him, his hair damp from the rain and his jacket speckled with droplets, and felt a flicker of the quiet girl she used to be—the one who left umbrellas without expecting anything in return.
"Thanks," she said softly, her voice almost drowned out by the rain.
Aaron nodded, his smile faint but genuine. "Anytime."
As she rode away, the umbrella still clutched in his hand, Layla couldn't help but wonder if he knew more than he let on. And if he did, why he never said anything.
The memory tugged at her now as she sat in class, doodling absentmindedly in her notebook. The storm outside mirrored the one in her mind, swirling with questions and what-ifs. She glanced at Aaron's desk, where he was hunched over, scribbling something in his notebook. He looked up suddenly, catching her gaze, and smiled.
Layla quickly looked away, her cheeks warming. She told herself it didn't matter. Whether he knew or not, she wasn't doing it for the recognition. It was just... something she did. Something she couldn't quite explain.
"Ms. Anderson," the teacher's voice cut through her thoughts. "If you're done daydreaming, perhaps you could share your thoughts on the lesson?"
Layla straightened in her seat, clearing her throat. "Uh, sure. What was the question again?"
A few snickers echoed through the room, but the teacher moved on without pressing further. Layla exhaled in relief, glancing out the window as the rain continued to fall.
Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wondered if Aaron would need an umbrella today. And whether she'd ever have the courage to tell him it had always been her.
But for now, she was content to let the rain carry her secret.