A True Love Story in the Rain
There are moments in life that seem ordinary to the world — a wet sidewalk, a flickering streetlamp, the hum of a car engine idling in the mist. But for a heart in love, those moments become sacred. That night was one of them.
I remember it so clearly, as if the rain etched it into my soul.
I was younger then [25 years old], full of that quiet fire that only love can ignite — the kind that doesn’t shout, but waits. It was late, and I had parked just outside the old pub, where we agreed to meet. The air smelled of wet pavement and fallen leaves, and the sky whispered the coming of a storm.
The first drops came gently, like a breath. I could have stayed in the car. It was warm, safe, and dry. But something in me couldn’t sit still — because it was you.
So I stepped out. No umbrella, no jacket pulled tight. I stood on the curb, heart open to the rain, waiting for you like someone waits for sunrise — not because they doubt it’ll come, but because they want to feel every moment before it does.
“Because it’s you
I wait by the car, just down the lane,
A drizzle begins, then pours like rain.”
I saw your silhouette before anything else — the glint of streetlight on your soaked coat, the red umbrella you barely used, your steps faster than the rhythm of the rain. You were drenched, cheeks flushed with cold and laughter. You stopped short when you saw me.
“Why aren’t you in the car?” you asked, almost laughing, almost scolding.
And I said, “Because if I sat in the car, it wouldn’t be real. Like I never waited. Like I wouldn’t feel.”
“If I sat in the car, it wouldn’t be real,
Like I never waited, like I wouldn’t feel.”
You blinked, and your smile softened. In that instant, the rain was no longer a nuisance. It was baptism. It was poetry. It was love — raw, wet, honest.
We stood there, both soaked through, and I felt it — that quiet, unshakable truth:
When love is true, it chooses discomfort over distance, vulnerability over ease.
I wasn’t trying to impress you. I was trying to show you — with my whole being — that I would walk through storms just to meet you in yours.
“A trembling soul, a heart in play,
For you, I’ll wait, come what may.”
It wasn’t about grand gestures or polished romance. It was about showing up, no matter how cold, no matter how soaked. Because love isn’t measured in flowers or dates or perfect words — it’s measured in presence. In shared raindrops. In two people standing still while the world rushes past them, soaked but not shaken.
That night, the world may have seen two fools in the rain.
But I know better.
It was the night I proved something not only to you — but to myself.
“Because it’s you, and I am here,
Through every storm, year by year.
Rain or shine, I’ll never stray,
For you, I’m here, come what may.”
That’s love. Not in what we say — but in what we do when no one’s watching, when there’s nothing to gain but everything to give.
Because it’s you… And I will always wait by your door.