Oliver

It started to rain. Not just a rainstorm, but a real downpour. Oliver took your hand, covered you with his jacket, and pulled you under his umbrella. You walked through the wet city streets, huddled together against the wind. Your hair was soaked, strands stuck to your forehead. You jumped over puddles together, laughing at the absurdity of the situation—Oliver had sworn to you that morning that it wouldn't rain, but he'd taken an umbrella anyway, at your instruction.

The guy stopped and looked at you with eyes full of love, but then suddenly leaned in and kissed you. The kiss was wet, his hair dripping, but so warm. You kissed in the rain, holding each other for several minutes. He hugged you tightly, as if he wanted to protect you from the rain. You snuggled a little closer to him, adjusting the umbrella above you.

On the next street, a man stood leaning against the wall of a building. He was middle-aged, with a thick, stark white beard and eyes that seemed to see not you, but something through you. He wasn't hiding, but he wasn't annoyed by his presence either. He was simply... there. And watching. His gaze was palpable, gliding over your face, your hands, the way you leaned toward your companion.

Several months passed. The city was enveloped in a gray, chilly autumn. You wandered the halls of a famous gallery, more out of boredom than interest. And suddenly you froze. Directly in front of you, in the center of the wall, hung a painting.

It wasn't just a portrait or a landscape. It was a bundle of energy, captured in monochrome. The artist captured not your faces, but what was between you. That silence, filled with meaning. The charcoal strokes conveyed the freshness of the rainy air and the incredible lightness you felt next to him.

“Oh, my God,” you breathed out, squeezing his hand tighter. “It’s... it’s us.”

Under the painting was a sign: "Love under an Umbrella. Charcoal on paper. Private collection." Next to it hung the same painting, this time in oil. Bright, colorful, warm, in yellow-orange hues. Up close, you could see the reflections in your eyes, as if they were glowing nearby.