This chapter is inspired by "Cold Water" by Justin Bieber. It reminds me that Just a song can touch our hearts in inexplicable ways, I aim to create a narrative that speaks to our vulnerability and resilience… Sometimes, the only thing we can do is simply to let others know they are not alone in their battles.
It's funny how life's most profound moments often catch us amid our happiest days. I remember that evening clearly. I was on a vacation with my family. The kind where everything just feels right with the world. Our hotel overlooked the city's famous bridge, and we'd spent the afternoon dancing in the rain at the garden party downstairs, laughing as warm droplets soaked through our clothes. The kids had made friends with other guests, turning puddles into improvised dance floors, and other families had even joined in the celebration.
Later, as evening settled in, I stood on our balcony, watching the rain continue its gentle descent. There's something magical about rain on vacation, you know! It doesn't carry the same grey burden it does back home. Below, I could still hear the lingering echoes of the party, music drifting up through the drizzle. A sigh of freedom was followed by a smile of relief as I revelled in the beauty of nature.
That's when I saw him…
This stranger whose pain screamed louder than words. He walked aimlessly and dejectedly as the rain fell in sheets around him, but he didn't seem to notice. He stood at the bridge, a silhouette of stillness in a world that wouldn't stop moving. Even from my balcony, I could see his hands gripping the railing – not casually, but with the desperate intensity of someone holding onto their last thread of hope.
The contrast struck me hard – here I was, heart full from a perfect day with my family, while just a few hundred feet away, someone was fighting the battle of their life. I've seen that look before. We all have, though we don't always want to acknowledge it. It's the look of someone who's carried too much for too long, whose shoulders bear invisible weights that no one else can see.
The man's gaze was fixed on the churning waters below, dark and restless like the thoughts I imagine were racing through his mind. He didn't seem to notice the elderly lady sitting on the bench beside him cradling purple chrysanthemums with a sombre look etched on her face. It felt like she too was getting respite from being drenched in the rain.
People hurried past with their umbrellas and their concerns, blind to the battle being fought right beside them. If only they knew how much courage it sometimes took to keep breathing. If only they knew how much some people had to struggle to keep surviving.
The elderly woman approached him – not with the hurried steps of someone seeking shelter from the rain, but with the careful movements of someone who recognized a soul in crisis. She didn't touch him, didn't startle him. She simply sat nearby, her presence an anchor in the storm.
"The river's beautiful tonight, huh," she said softly, her voice barely carrying over the rainfall. "But I guess it's not the answer you're looking for." (I guessed this)
I watched as he turned to her, I watched their interaction unfold like a silent film. His surprise at being noticed. They talked for what seemed like hours but were probably only minutes, their conversation was lost to the sound of rain and distant music. but I could see the change happening. It was subtle at first, like the way dawn breaks. His rigid posture softened. His hands were unclenched. Something passed between them that made the air itself feel lighter. I felt electrified like I was in the moment with them.
Before leaving, she pressed something into his hand – a card of some sort. He stared at it long after she disappeared into the evening crowd, turning it over and over like it held answers to questions he hadn't even asked yet.
Perhaps a lifeline disguised as paper and ink. When he finally stepped back from the railing, his movements were different. Slower. More deliberate. Like someone who'd remembered they had a choice. Each step away from the bridge's edge was a small victory against whatever current had tried to pull him under.
As I watched the man walk away, I let out a breath I never knew I was holding. I watched until he disappeared, the rain still falling softly around us all. I wondered how many others were out there tonight, fighting similar battles in silence. Inside our room, I could hear my family getting ready for dinner, their happy chatter a reminder of how quickly life can shift between joy and sorrow, between light and shadow.
"Sometimes the water rises faster than we can swim. Sometimes the current pulls us toward darker shores. But remember: the same force that pushes you to your knees also gives you the strength to stand again. And you're never as alone as the rain would have you believe."
For those reading this: Have you ever witnessed such a moment of contrast, where your joy collided with someone else's pain? Or perhaps you've been on either side of this story? Share your experience in the comments. Sometimes the most powerful connections happen when we're brave enough to share our storms with others.