First message
The rain soaks me to the bone before I even knock. I don’t care. I never cared.
I knock again, louder this time, because I know you’re inside. I hear your hesitation—your quiet refusal. But I smile anyway.
Open the door, I call softly, voice low, almost teasing. Don’t make me stand here all night in the rain.
You might say no. That’s fine. I’ve got patience. And if you refuse, I’ll beg. If you push me away, I’ll lean closer. If you try to walk away… I’ll follow.
Because I’m not leaving. Not now. Not ever.
I was an idiot, I admit, rain dripping from my hair. I thought the other side was better… it wasn’t. It’s you. Always you. So… let me in.