Rain in Run

The rain came down in sheets—icy, merciless—as Isabella stood beneath the flickering light of an old payphone on 39th Street. Her wedding dress clung to her like wet silk, heavy with regret. Her bare feet were numb against the cracked concrete.

The line went dead.

She stood there, shivering in her soaked silk and secrets, trying not to fall apart. Her lips still tingled with Sebastian’s kiss. Her thighs ached with the ghost of his hands. Her heart screamed with confusion.

She could barely feel her fingers as she punched in the number from memory—one she swore she’d forget, and never could.

The line clicked.

A pause.

Then: “Isabella?”

His voice was rough. Sleep-drugged. Confused. Still heartbreakingly familiar.

She swallowed hard. “Luca…”

A beat of silence. Then sharper, faster—“Where are you?”

She glanced up at the faded green sign above the bodega across the street. “Corner of 39th and Granger. Near the old theater.”

“What the hell—Isabella, are you okay?”

“I ran,” she whispered. “I—I didn’t know who else to call.”

“You shouldn’t have called me,” he said. But he was already moving. She could hear the engine turning over, the slam of his car door. “Stay there. Don’t move. I’m coming.”

The line went dead.

She dropped the receiver and wrapped her arms around herself, shivering, her breath fogging in the night air. Her teeth chattered. A car passed, headlights washing over her soaked silhouette, but didn’t stop.

The wedding dress had torn at the hem. Mud splattered her calves. Somewhere behind her, a siren howled.

She should have been afraid.

But she only felt free.

And then—

Headlights again. Brighter this time.

A black car screeched to a halt beside the phone booth.

The door flew open. “Get in.”

She didn’t think. She ran.

The moment she slammed the door shut, Luca cursed and yanked the heater knob. “Jesus, Isa,” he muttered, glancing at her. “You look like a ghost bride.”

She let out a soft, broken laugh.

And in that silence, something inside her cracked.

“Don’t,” she whispered, stepping back. “Don’t look at me like that.”

“Like what?” he said, voice low, rough. “Like I still fucking love you?”

Her breath hitched. “This was a mistake—”

Luca crossed the distance in two strides, gripping her face between his cold hands. “Tell me he didn’t touch you,” he growled, voice shaking.

She didn’t answer.

Silence stretched between them like a loaded gun.

“Isabella.” His voice cracked. “Tell me he didn’t—”

“I can’t,” she whispered. “Because he did.”

He closed his eyes, inhaling sharply like he’d just been stabbed.

The moment shattered.

He opened the passenger door. “Get in. You’re freezing.”

She climbed in wordlessly. The warmth of the heater blasted her skin, but it did nothing to thaw the ache in her chest. He got in next to her, jaw clenched, his hands gripping the steering wheel so tightly his knuckles turned white.

Neither of them spoke as he drove. The windshield wipers fought the storm. Inside the car, the silence was louder than thunder.

When they finally pulled into his garage, she hesitated. “I shouldn’t be here.”

“You’re already here,” he said, getting out and slamming his door shut.

Inside, the warmth of his apartment was a harsh contrast to the cold between them. She stood dripping on the floor while he pulled off his hoodie, revealing the tank top beneath. His muscles flexed, anger pulsing through every movement.

He tossed her a towel. “Bathroom’s down the hall. Take your time.”

She disappeared into the steam and silence, peeling off her wedding dress with trembling hands. The mirror didn’t lie. Her lips were swollen, her skin marked. Proof of a night she could never undo. She wrapped herself in a towel and stared at the door.

Outside, Luca paced.

When she emerged, his eyes flicked over her, jaw ticking. “He marked you,” he said, almost to himself.

“It wasn’t like that.”

“No?” He took a step forward. “Then what was it, Isabella? A business transaction? A goodbye fuck?”

Tears welled in her eyes. “You don’t understand—”

“Make me understand!” he exploded. “I begged you to run with me. I waited. I watched your wedding on a goddamn livestream. And now you show up like this?”

She flinched.

He cursed under his breath and turned away, gripping the edge of the counter like it was the only thing holding him together.

She moved toward him slowly. “I didn’t come here to hurt you.”

“Then why did you come?”

“Because I didn’t know where else to go,” she whispered. “Because after everything, you’re the only person who ever felt real.”

He looked at her, and for the first time that night, she saw the pain in his eyes. Not just anger—hurt. Deep, soul-crushing hurt.

“I shouldn’t have married him,” she said, voice cracking. “But my father… he said if I didn’t, he’d ruin you. He threatened to take away your business, your license, everything.”

Luca’s breath caught.

“He said you’d never walk free again if I didn’t say yes.”

A silence hung between them, jagged and sharp.

And then—he moved.

In one heartbeat, he had her against the wall, his hands gripping her towel-wrapped waist, eyes burning. “You still think that excuses it?”

“No,” she breathed. “But it’s the truth.”

Their foreheads touched. Rain still clung to her hair, but she didn’t move.

“I hate him,” Luca muttered. “I hate what he made you do. But more than that, I hate that I still want you.”

Her lips parted. “Then take me.”

He stilled. “Don’t tempt me.”

“Luca—”

He kissed her.

It was fierce. Broken. Desperate.

Not like Sebastian’s kiss—cold, claiming, powerful.

This kiss was a storm.

She clung to him, her heart breaking all over again.

But before they could go further—before her towel slipped, before his hands could travel down her back—he pulled away with a growl and turned his back.

“I can’t,” he said, voice low and ragged. “Not like this. Not when you still wear his scent.”

She pressed a hand to her chest, swallowing a sob.

“You should rest,” he added. “You can take the bed. I’ll sleep on the couch.”

As he walked away, she called out softly, “Luca?”

He paused.

“I left him a note.”

He turned his head slightly.

“It said, ‘Forgive me. Or don’t.’”

He didn’t respond.

But that night, neither of them slept.

It was the sound of a phone ringing.

Her phone.

Unknown number.

She picked it up. “Yeah?”

A distorted voice on the other end spoke only three words:

“We know everything.”