The World Keeps Raining

A gentle uncertainty, falling softly as rain

It hadn’t stopped raining for days.

Ever since that quiet stroll by the river,

when he’d softly said,

“Because it’s raining today.”

I’d waited patiently for the sun.

But Shanghai skies stayed gray—relentlessly gray.

And my patience was slowly wearing thin.

We continued seeing each other,

doing everything lovers would—

sharing meals, tennis games, easy laughter.

Every moment sweet, effortless,

and frustratingly undefined.

He never repeated those words.

No “girlfriend,” no “us,”

just a solitary “Love you,”

hanging quietly in the air,

with no follow-up,

no clarification,

only silence.

—

Then one evening,

he casually invited me to a CBA game.

Without hesitation, I agreed,

my heart quickening without permission.

Shanghai versus Zhejiang.

I’d never been to a real basketball game,

so I prepared carefully,

half-teasing him as we left:

“Are the cheerleaders pretty?”

He laughed, eyes gentle yet certain,

“You’re prettier than any of them.”

It was a simple, playful compliment,

but it pierced something tender,

sending a quiet tremor through me.

—

At the stadium, the energy surged.

We shouted, cheered, exchanged high-fives—

as if this were our routine,

as if we belonged to each other completely.

Every basket felt electrifying,

and when his hand brushed against mine,

it felt deliberate yet gentle,

tantalizingly close to commitment,

but never settling fully.

—

During halftime, the camera began scanning the audience,

possibly searching for couples to spotlight.

For a moment, my heart raced—

What if it stopped on us?

Would he kiss me openly?

Would he finally say it clearly?

Could this be the moment we’d both been silently waiting for?

But the camera moved on.

We clapped along quietly,

sitting like two friends,

as if my heart hadn’t just briefly raced in anticipation.

—

Afterward, we stepped outside,

and predictably, inevitably—

it was still raining.

Pulling my hood up,

I smiled softly, pretending it didn’t matter,

masking the quiet ache,

the subtle disappointment beneath.

Inside, questions quietly echoed:

How long could we continue this gentle uncertainty?

How many rainy days until the sun?

How long could love linger without landing?

We got into the car.

He played soft music,

and I stayed silent,

watching raindrops trail down the window,

steady, persistent,

as if this rain might continue forever,

until the end of everything.