When It Rains
The guest room smelled faintly of antiseptic and stale air. Melody sat on the edge of the bed, nightgown pulled up to her ribs, exposing the angry red line across her lower abdomen.
A month had passed since the emergency C-section, but the stitches looked worse than ever... swollen, inflamed, the skin around them still bruised purple and yellow.
Without proper pain medication, antibiotics, or even basic wound care ointment, healing had stalled. Infection had crept in quietly; the edges wept clear fluid some days, and the pain never dulled, only sharpened with every movement.
She held the last alcohol swab between trembling fingers, wincing as she dabbed at the inflamed spots. Each touch felt like fire. Tears gathered at the corners of her eyes, but she blinked them back. She had to do this herself. No one else would.
The door opened without a knock.
Ashley stepped inside, flawless in a fitted cashmere sweater and tailored pants, her blonde hair sleek and perfect. She paused in the doorway, eyes sweeping over Melody, over the exposed, scarred belly, the hunched shoulders, the dark circles under her eyes.
A slow, cruel smile curled her lips.
“Well, look at you,” Ashley said, voice dripping with mock sympathy. “Still playing nurse to yourself? How… tragic.”
Melody’s hand froze mid-swipe. She tried to pull the nightgown down, but Ashley was already crossing the room, heels clicking sharply on the hardwood.
“Don’t bother covering up,” Ashley said, stopping just in front of her. “I’ve already seen the damage. God, it’s worse than I imagined. That belly... still so bloated, so… saggy. You look like you’re still six months pregnant. No wonder Christian can’t stand to be in the same room with you.”
Melody swallowed hard, throat tight. “Please… I’m just trying to clean—”
“Trying?” Ashley laughed, short and sharp. “You’re failing. Look at that mess. Red, swollen, leaking. You’re disgusting, Melody. Absolutely revolting. Christian told me he has to force himself to look at you. He said your body makes him sick now. All stretched out and ruined. Pathetic.”
The words landed like blows. Melody’s vision blurred with fresh tears. She clutched the swab tighter, knuckles white.
Ashley leaned down, snatching the remaining pack of alcohol swabs from the bed beside Melody’s thigh.
“Hey, wait—” Melody’s voice cracked. “Please, Ashley, I need those. The infection—”
Ashley held them up, dangling them just out of reach.
“Need them? For what? To pretend you’re still worth something?
Newsflash, sweetheart, you’re not. You’re a walking corpse in this house.
Christian only keeps you around because of legal reasons.
As soon as he can, he’ll be rid of you. And good riddance. ”
Melody reached out desperately, hand shaking. “Please… give them back. It hurts so much without them. I’m begging you—”
Ashley’s smile widened, cold and satisfied. She stepped back, tucking the swabs into her pocket.
“Begging looks good on you,” she said softly. “Keep practicing. You’ll be doing a lot more of it soon.”
She turned and walked out, closing the door with a soft, deliberate click.
Melody stared at the empty space where the swabs had been.
Then she curled forward, arms wrapped around her aching, inflamed belly, and sobbed quietly into the silence.
The wound burned hotter than ever.
And no one came to help.
×××××××
The conference room on the 42nd floor of Holt Enterprises was thick with tension.
The Asian partners sat across the long glass table, faces impassive, arms folded.
Christian stood at the head, sleeves rolled up, tie loosened, the glow of the projector screen casting harsh shadows across his features.
The lead negotiator from the Meridian Group cleared his throat.
“We appreciate your efforts, Mr. Holt,” he said in measured English. “But the valuation gap remains too wide. The regulatory clauses are still unresolved. Without a clear path forward, we cannot proceed.”
Christian’s jaw clenched. He glanced down at the open laptop, Melody’s old projections still pulled up, the one file he hadn’t deleted from the archives.
The numbers were elegant, precise, the kind only she could untangle so cleanly.
He had stared at them for hours last night, refusing to call her, refusing to admit he needed her.
Now the silence stretched.
“I understand,” Christian said finally, voice flat. “We’ll reconvene when we have a revised proposal.”
The partners exchanged polite nods, stood, and filed out.
The door closed behind them.
Christian remained standing, hands braced on the table, head bowed. The room felt suddenly too large, too empty.
He had lost the deal.
The biggest international expansion since Ashton’s death... gone. Millions in projected revenue. Market share. Reputation.
All because he couldn’t solve what she used to solve in minutes.
He straightened slowly, walked to the window, and stared out at the city skyline. Rain streaked the glass again, blurring the lights into smears of gold and white.
His reflection stared back... exhausted, hollow-eyed, the man who had once believed he could carry everything alone.
He thought of her upstairs in that cold guest room, still healing, still waiting for scraps of kindness. He thought of the way she used to light up when a deal closed, quiet triumph in her dark eyes, long black hair falling loose as she celebrated with a small, private smile.
He had taken that from her.
And now the company was paying for it.
Christian pressed his forehead to the cool glass.
He didn’t know how much longer he could pretend he didn’t need her.
Not just for the numbers.
For everything.
But the hate was still there, coiled tight in his chest, refusing to let go.
He closed his eyes against the rain.
The deal was lost.
And so was something else... something he wasn’t ready to name.
×××××××
The guest room was dim, lit only by the soft amber glow of the bedside lamp and the faint orange flicker from the small fireplace in the corner. Rain tapped steadily against the tall windows, a gentle, endless rhythm that made the night feel both endless and safe.
Melody sat propped against the pillows, Symphony cradled in the crook of her arm. The baby nursed quietly, tiny mouth working with slow, rhythmic pulls. Melody’s free hand stroked the soft dark curls that had begun to grow longer, her thumb brushing over the delicate shell of her daughter’s ear.
She only got these moments when Christian was home.
Tonight he was... somewhere downstairs, probably in his study with the door closed, pretending the world outside didn’t exist. If he had been away, Victoria would have kept Symphony locked in the nursery with formula bottles and a locked door.
Melody had learned that lesson the hard way.
She bent her head, lips brushing Symphony’s forehead.
“I love rain, do you know that?” she whispered, voice barely above the patter against the glass. “Your daddy does too.”
Symphony made a small, contented sound, eyes half-closed in sleepy bliss.
Melody smiled faintly, eyes distant.
“Whenever he saw it was raining outside, or someone mentioned a storm coming, his face would light up. Like the moon breaking through clouds. Brighter than anything else in the room. And I… I started loving it too. Because when it rained, I got to see him genuinely happy. Not the careful smile he gave in meetings. The real one. The one that made everything feel… possible.”
Sally, the nanny, sat quietly in the armchair near the fireplace, hands folded in her lap. She had been instructed to stay. Christian’s rule, probably to make sure Melody didn’t “overstep”, but tonight she listened without speaking at first.
After a long moment, Sally leaned forward slightly.
“Miss, if I may?”
Melody glanced up, nodding once.
“You’re not healing,” Sally said softly. “You’re sick. The wound looks worse every day. Why don’t you tell Mr. Holt about it?”
Melody’s gaze dropped back to Symphony. Her thumb continued its slow circle over the baby’s tiny hand.
“Christian already knows what his mother does to me,” she said quietly. “This is my punishment. He dragged me out of that prison cell and threw me straight into her hands. He knew she would torment me worse than any jail ever could.”
Sally’s face tightened. “That is… evil.”
“He calls it revenge for Ashton.”
“And you will just… endure it?”
Melody looked down at her daughter again. Symphony’s lashes fluttered, peaceful and trusting.
“I just want to be near Symphony right now,” she whispered. “At least he lets me see her. At least I get these moments.”
Sally watched her for a long beat, eyes soft with something close to admiration.
“You’re brave,” she said.
Melody gave a small, tired smile.
“Coal is pressed and crushed over and over again before it becomes a diamond,” she murmured. “Maybe that’s all this is. Pressure. Pain. Waiting to see if something beautiful comes out the other side.”
The rain continued its quiet song against the windows.
Symphony finished nursing with a soft sigh, tiny mouth releasing with a wet pop. Melody lifted her gently to her shoulder, patting her back in slow circles.
For a few more precious minutes, the room held only the three of them: mother, daughter, and the gentle woman who had become the only witness to Melody’s endurance.
Outside, the storm went on.
Inside, something small and fragile kept breathing.
×××××××
There was one day at the office I still think about when it rains. I can’t help it. The memory sneaks in like the sound of water on glass, soft and uninvited.
It was early autumn, one of those perfect gray days when the sky looks heavy but gentle. I remember walking into the building and feeling oddly alive.
The whole office felt different that day. Lighter. People smiled more. Even the interns were humming. And Christian… God, Christian was happy.
I saw it the moment I passed his office.
He was standing by the window, sleeves rolled up, watching the clouds with this quiet, unguarded expression.
.. like a boy seeing snow for the first time.
His face lit up, soft and real, the corners of his eyes crinkling just a little.
He didn’t notice me watching. He just stood there, arms crossed, smiling at the storm outside like it was a gift.
I had never seen him look so… free.
I had a client meeting that afternoon at a small café downtown. It started pouring mid-meeting. I walked the blocks back to the office without an umbrella. The water soaked through my coat, my hair, my shoes. By the time I returned to the office, I was drenched, shivering, but strangely content.
The floor was almost empty. Most people had left early. The lights were dimmed in the open-plan area, only a few desks still glowing. I went straight to Christian’s office to brief him on the meeting.
He was alone, still by the window, papers scattered on his desk but untouched. When I knocked softly, he turned.
His eyes widened slightly when he saw me... hair plastered to my face, clothes clinging, water pooling at my feet.
“You’re soaked,” he said, voice low.
I tried to laugh it off. “The client loved the proposal. We’re moving to contract phase next week.”
He didn’t smile. He just looked at me and something shifted in his expression. Without a word, he shrugged off his coat, the dark wool one he always wore, and draped it over my shoulders.
It was warm from his body. Heavy. Smelling faintly of his cologne and rain and him.
I froze.
He stepped closer, adjusting the collar so it covered my neck, his fingers brushing my damp skin for just a second. I shivered, and he noticed.
“You’re shaking,” he murmured.
I couldn’t speak. My heart was hammering so hard I thought he’d hear it.
He didn’t pull away right away. He stood there, hands lingering on the lapels of the coat, eyes on mine. For one long, impossible moment, the rain was the only sound between us.
Then he stepped back.
“Good work today,” he said quietly. “Go home before you catch something.”
I nodded, clutching his coat around me like a shield. I didn’t give it back that night. I wore it on the subway, on the walk home, in my tiny apartment. I slept in it.
That was the closest I ever came to feeling like he saw me.
Not just the strategist. Not just the employee.
Me.
And even though it was only a coat, only a moment, it kept me warm for weeks.
I still think about it when it rains.
I still wonder if he remembers too.
—Melody
×××××××