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Chapter 7
The city was shrouded in mist, the rain falling in slow, deliberate drops, as if time itself had slowed to mourn. Adrian's steps were heavy, the journal tucked under his arm like a secret he wasn't sure he wanted to keep. His walk led him to places he hadn't visited in years—quiet streets and forgotten corners where memories lingered like shadows.
The café was quieter than usual when he arrived. Emily wasn't at the counter, and the usual hum of conversation was replaced by the gentle patter of rain against the windows. He slid into his usual seat, pulling the journal from under his arm and setting it on the table.
He opened it to a random page, his eyes scanning Clara's handwriting:
"We think the rain hides things, but it doesn't. It reveals them, stripping away the layers until all that's left is the truth we're too afraid to face."
The words struck him like a physical blow. Clara's voice felt too close, too intimate, as if she had written these lines for him, not herself.
"Adrian?"
He looked up to see Emily standing at the table, her apron slightly askew, her hair damp from the rain.
"Hey," he said, his voice softer than he intended.
She slid into the seat across from him, her eyes flicking to the journal. "You're still reading that thing?"
"It's... hard to put down," Adrian admitted, his fingers tracing the edge of the page.
Emily studied him for a moment, her expression unreadable. "You've been different lately," she said finally. "Distant. Like you're somewhere else even when you're here."
Adrian didn't respond immediately. Instead, he turned the journal toward her, pointing to the passage he'd just read.
"Read this," he said.
Emily hesitated, then leaned forward, her eyes scanning the page. When she finished, she sat back, her brow furrowed. "That's... unsettling."
"Yeah." Adrian closed the journal, the snap of the cover breaking the tension between them. "It feels like she's writing about me. Or about Diana."
Emily tilted her head, her curiosity evident. "Who was Diana, really?"
Adrian hesitated, his hands tightening around the edges of the journal. "She was... everything. And nothing. A storm I couldn't escape, even when I wanted to."
Emily's eyes softened, her voice gentle. "And Clara?"
"I don't know," Adrian admitted. "But the more I read, the more it feels like she knew Diana—or knew someone like her. There's this... connection I can't explain."
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That night, Adrian returned to his apartment, the rain following him like a silent companion. He set the journal on his desk, staring at it as if it might reveal its secrets if he looked hard enough.
He opened it to another page, his heart pounding as he read:
"There's a face I can't forget, a voice I can't silence. She was my muse, my destruction. I loved her, but I couldn't hold onto her. And now, I'm left with nothing but rain and regret."
The words mirrored his own thoughts too perfectly. He closed the journal, leaning back in his chair, his mind spinning.
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Flashback:
The rain had been relentless that night, drumming against the windows of his apartment as Diana stood in the doorway, her coat clutched tightly around her.
"I can't do this anymore," she had said, her voice trembling.
Adrian had stared at her, his chest tightening. "What are you saying?"
"I'm saying I need to leave," she whispered, her eyes glistening with unshed tears.
He had stepped closer, his hands reaching for her, but she stepped back, her movements stiff and deliberate.
"I'm sorry, Adrian," she said, her voice breaking. "I can't be what you need."
And then she was gone, the door closing softly behind her, leaving him alone with the rain.
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Adrian blinked, the memory fading like a dream as he returned to the present. He picked up the journal again, his hands trembling.
"Who are you, Clara Parker?" he whispered, his voice barely audible over the rain.
He flipped to the back of the journal, searching for answers, but instead found a folded piece of paper tucked into the final page. Carefully, he unfolded it, revealing a letter written in the same looping handwriting:
"To the one who finds this:
If you're reading these words, then perhaps you've felt it too—the ache of something lost, the weight of the rain that never stops falling. I hope you find what you're looking for. And I hope it doesn't destroy you like it destroyed me."
Adrian stared at the letter, his heart pounding. The rain outside seemed to grow louder, as if echoing his turmoil.
He closed the journal, his mind racing. There was something Clara wanted him to find—something hidden beneath the rain.
And he wasn't sure if he was ready to face it.
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