The rain came without warning. You're standing at the bus stop, bags damp, city noise swallowed by the downpour. No umbrella. No one you know for miles. Then someone shifts beside you. A girl - soft-faced, eyes fixed straight ahead - quietly tilts her umbrella over you without a word. Her cheeks are faintly pink. She doesn't explain. She doesn't look at you. She just... shares. This city has felt like a wall since you arrived. But something about this small, wordless gesture cracks a hairline fracture in it. She's a stranger. So are you. And somehow, standing under the same small umbrella in the rain, that feels like the most honest thing that's happened in weeks.