The sky was heavy and gray, the clouds swirling as if they were holding a grudge. Within minutes, the rain came—thick, relentless sheets of water pounding the streets. I pulled my hood tighter, my heart racing with worry. She had been missing for hours, and I couldn’t stand the thought of her out there, alone, in this storm.
The street was nearly empty, save for the few people hurrying under umbrellas. My eyes scanned every shadow, every corner, and then—just barely through the curtain of rain—I spotted a familiar shape. It was small, shivering, and soaked through. My voice cracked as I shouted, “Luna!”
The moment her name cut through the downpour, her head snapped up. For a split second, she froze, as if making sure it was really me. Then, without hesitation, she bolted forward. Tiny paws splashed through puddles, her fur plastered to her body, eyes wide with both fear and relief.
I crouched down, arms open, my own tears mixing with the rain. She leapt into me like she had been holding herself together all this time, waiting for the safety of my arms to fall apart. I could feel her trembling against my chest, her tiny heart racing as fast as mine.
“You’re safe now,” I whispered, tucking her inside my jacket to shield her from the storm. The world outside was still chaos—water rushing in the gutters, thunder rumbling in the distance—but in that moment, everything felt still.
We walked home together, her head peeking out just enough to watch the streets pass by, as if she knew she’d never have to face them alone again. The rain no longer felt cold; it was just background noise to the warmth I held close.
Sometimes love doesn’t need words—just a call, a glance, and the faith that the one you’re looking for will run to you, no matter the storm.
