A Rainy day and a ride

A Rainy Ride to Remember

I always had a way of making her feel better, no matter the situation. That day was no different—it was our first trip together to my favorite destination. We left early in the morning, running only on a cup of tea. Well, I did—she was a coffee person and wouldn’t even look at tea.

The journey was about 80 km one way. It was a rainy day, and we had our raincoats and jackets, hoping to keep ourselves from catching a cold. She sat behind me on the bike, exactly the way she always wanted. As she wrapped her arms around me and leaned on my back, I could feel every heartbeat of hers whispering, "Thank you, this is all I wanted."

After about an hour and a half, we stopped for breakfast. A quick bite later, we were back on the road, heading straight into the kind of weather she had always dreamed of experiencing with me—cool breeze, drizzling rain, and breathtaking scenery. I had a helmet, but I couldn’t afford another one for her. She was getting soaked in the downpour, and I asked if we should stop for a while. But she was something else—she didn’t want to pause the journey even for a second.

We reached one of my favorite spots when a sudden gust of wind hit us. She held onto me tightly, a mix of fear and excitement in her grip. She was living the moment, feeling every bit of it, just like I was. And in that moment, something happened—we didn’t know it yet, but we had already fallen in love, again. It was different this time. She leaned in, kissed me, and whispered, "I love you." I stood there, speechless, unable to respond. All I could see was her in that green hoodie, her ponytail swaying in the wind—I couldn’t take my eyes off her.

I know some moments are too beautiful to be relived with someone else. And so, I kept it simple: "This was our place, where we felt each other, held each other, kissed, and fell in love again."

Journeys don’t always end with distance; sometimes, they end with the moments you lived in. I can’t write a book about us, but I can write this blog. I don’t want to repeat this journey with anyone else—but if you must, you can hate me for it. I’ve always been a part of people’s stories, sometimes as love, sometimes as a memory, and sometimes… as someone they chose to hate.