The rain arrived like an old friend — tapping against the window, whispering secrets only she could hear. Maya closed her eyes and let the scent fill her.

It reminded her of her mother. When Maya was five, they’d dance barefoot on wet roads, stomping puddles until their jeans clung to their legs.

Now Maya was 27, and her mother had been gone for three years. Yet somehow, the rain still brought her back — not in photographs or echoes, but in that scent.

Maya kicked off her shoes and stepped outside. The cold water splashed her ankles. For a moment, she felt five years old again — and she swore she heard her mother laughing beside her.