The sky had been overcast since noon, but Isabella was too busy reorganizing the interview methodology for her group report to pay attention to the weather. She only realized how hard it was raining when she left the school library shortly before six that evening—and discovered that the folding umbrella she usually carried was still back in her room at the boarding house.
She stood on the library porch, staring at the rain, which showed no sign of letting up anytime soon, while weighing whether she should make a run for it or wait for the rain to ease, even if that meant being late to work on the other assignment waiting for her at the boarding house.
"You didn't bring an umbrella?"
Isabella turned and found Christian standing a few steps away, holding a large black umbrella that was clearly big enough for two.
"I left it at the boarding house," Isabella replied, trying to sound casual even though her heart had suddenly started beating a little faster.
"Good thing I brought one," Christian said, stepping closer and opening his umbrella wider. "Your place is still on my way home, right?"
Isabella hesitated for a moment. She could wait for the rain to stop or order a rideshare like usual. But for some reason, his simple offer felt more tempting than it should have.
"Are you sure you don't mind?" she asked, even though her feet had already carried her beneath the umbrella.
"If I minded, I wouldn't have offered," Christian replied with a faint smile.
They walked side by side beneath the same umbrella, close enough that their shoulders occasionally brushed whenever one of them dodged a puddle on the sidewalk. The rain fell harder, its patter filling a silence that wasn't awkward at all, even though neither of them said much along the way.
"You look tired," Christian finally said, breaking the silence as his eyes flicked toward Isabella.
"The interview methodology Professor Wirawan complained about yesterday," Isabella answered with a sigh. "I just finished reorganizing the whole thing from scratch."
"Why didn't you ask for help? That was my part too."
"You've already helped a lot," Isabella said. "I thought I'd finish this part myself."
Christian studied her for a moment, his expression difficult to read beneath the dim light of the streetlamps as they flickered on one by one. "You're always like that, huh? Trying to carry everything by yourself."
"That's not it," Isabella protested, even though she knew there was some truth to it. "I'm just... used to doing things on my own. That way, the results meet my standards."
"Sometimes those standards feel lighter when you share them with someone else," Christian said quietly. "Asking for help doesn't make you weak, Bel."
Isabella fell silent, gazing at the puddles on the sidewalk reflecting the streetlights. The words sounded simple, but for some reason, they felt heavier than they should have, as if they had touched something she'd spent a long time avoiding thinking about too deeply.
"I'm afraid that if I depend on someone else, I'll lose control," she finally admitted. "Like back then, when I was too confident trying to do everything alone and ended up failing."
"Asking for help isn't the same as losing control," Christian answered gently. "Sometimes, it's actually a sign that you're strong enough to trust someone else."
They paused in front of the narrow alley leading to Isabella's boarding house. Rain still poured around them, but beneath the same umbrella, they stood close enough for Isabella to feel Christian's warmth beside her—far warmer than the chilly evening air.
"Thank you," she said, her voice quieter than usual. "Not just for the umbrella."
"You're welcome," Christian replied, looking at her for a long moment. Something in his eyes seemed different from usual—deeper, more serious.
For a moment, they simply stood there in silence, rain falling all around them, its patter seeming like the only sound in the world. Isabella felt her heart pounding, harder than she could explain away as nothing more than cold or exhaustion.
"You should go inside," Christian finally said, breaking the silence, his voice slightly hoarse. "Before you get even colder."
"Yeah." Isabella nodded, though her feet felt heavy as she forced herself to step away. "You be careful on your way home too."
"Always." Christian smiled, keeping his umbrella raised to shield Isabella until she was completely beneath the roof of her boarding house's porch.
Isabella stood by the door, watching Christian walk away through the rain, his black umbrella growing smaller in the distance before finally disappearing around the corner. Only then did she realize she'd been holding her breath for the last several seconds they'd stood side by side.
That night, after taking a hot shower and changing into dry clothes, Isabella sat at her desk and tried to focus on continuing the unfinished methodology assignment. But her thoughts kept drifting back to the moment beneath the umbrella—to the way Christian had looked at her before finally telling her to go inside, to the warmth that felt so unfamiliar yet so comforting at the same time.
She reached for her phone and opened her messaging app, hesitating for a moment before finally typing.
Did you make it back to the boarding house safely?
His reply arrived soon after.
Soaking wet but safe. What about you? Warm yet?
Isabella smiled to herself as she read the message, typed a brief reply, then set her phone down and tried to focus on her assignment again. But that night, for the first time since the semester began, she realized something she could no longer deny: her feelings for Christian had gone far beyond mere respect for an academic rival.
She looked at her phone screen one more time, rereading their brief exchange before setting it on the desk and trying to return to her assignment. But her concentration was completely gone. Every time she tried to focus on the methodology sentences she needed to put together, images of the rain, the black umbrella, and the way Christian had looked at her kept resurfacing in her mind.
She finally gave up, closed her laptop, and lay down on her bed even though she wasn't truly sleepy yet. The sound of rain still drifted faintly through her bedroom window, and for some reason, it felt more soothing than usual, as if the night itself were keeping a small secret she'd only just realized about her own feelings.
Before she truly fell asleep, one last thought crossed her mind, simple but completely honest.
I think I'm starting to like Christian Bennet.
And for the first time, she didn't immediately brush the thought aside the way she usually did whenever similar feelings surfaced over the past few weeks.