Chapter 2: The Dream House and the Rain

There was a group chat that never really died, full of old jokes and new baby photos. Sometimes, it almost felt like high school again.

I only went to the first reunion, skipping the ones after.

I’d tried, that first year. I really did. But it was too much—too many ghosts, too many memories.

Everyone talked about Eli Grayson. I lost it. Smashed a glass.

I hadn’t meant to. It just happened. The room went silent, everyone staring. My hand still stung from the shards, but the pain felt good—something real to hold onto.

I couldn’t stand to hear anyone say, ‘Eli is gone.’

It felt like they were erasing him with every word. I wanted to scream, to make them remember the way he laughed, the way he lit up a room.

I couldn’t bear to have others use him as a topic of conversation.

He wasn’t a cautionary tale or a sad story. He was Eli—my Eli. And I couldn’t stand to hear them pick apart his life like it was just another headline.

The reunion ended badly—because of me. After that, I stopped going. I didn’t want to ruin things for everyone else.

I made excuses, dodged invites, let the years slip by. But the guilt never really left. It clung to me, quiet and persistent.

“Cass, you missed my wedding. If you don’t come tomorrow, I’ll be mad! Some of us are moving out of state soon—it’ll be even harder to meet up.”

Her voice softened. I could hear the plea in it. Life was pulling us all in different directions, and I was running out of reasons to say no.

“It’s rare for everyone to be together. You can’t miss it. Riley has always wanted to apologize to you.”

Riley was the one who argued with me at that first reunion, all because of Eli.

He meant well, I guess. But the words just came out wrong. We were both hurting, but neither of us knew how to say it.

He said Eli died young, that fate was cruel, that Eli never got to enjoy the gifts he had…

I smashed my glass at Riley’s feet, my eyes turning red.

There was a sharp intake of breath, someone muttering my name. I remember the sound of glass shattering, the way Riley’s face crumpled with regret. It was a mess, and I hated that Eli’s memory had become something to fight over.

…

I flipped through the calendar on my desk, my finger stopping on a date.

I traced the numbers, thinking of all the plans we’d made that never came true. After a moment of silence, I agreed, “Okay.”

After I hung up, I stared blankly at the wall clock.

The second hand ticked by, slow and relentless. I let myself imagine, just for a moment, that time might stop for me, just this once.

Soon, my wish would come true.

I closed my eyes and pictured his smile, the way he’d laugh at my stubbornness. The hope burned brighter than ever.

The wind rattled the chimes outside. Then my phone chimed.

The chimes sounded like distant laughter, and for a second, I almost believed it was him. My phone buzzed insistently, snapping me back to the present.

I got a new message: “Ms. Hart, the library you donated to our school has opened. Thank you for your support!”

I smiled, just a little. Doing good had become my way of keeping him close—a way to fill the emptiness he left behind.

I held the card. In my vision, it had turned completely pink, an address written on it now.

The letters glowed softly, as if inviting me to step into another world. My heart skipped a beat.

Staring at the address, I suddenly grabbed my backpack and rushed out the door.

I didn’t even stop to grab a jacket. The world outside was washed in gray, but I barely noticed. I was running on hope alone.

For the past three years, I’d thrown myself into charity work—counting the days, watching the card, longing for this moment. God, I thought, let this be real. Let it work.

Every soup kitchen shift, every fundraiser, every late-night volunteer shift—it was all for this. I’d measured my life in good deeds, waiting for the day the card would finally change.

Finally, today, my last good deed was done. The merit points were full.

I stood on the sidewalk, breathless, staring at the pink glow of the Dream House sign. It felt like standing on the edge of something vast and unknown.

I ran all the way and stopped in front of a wooden door.

My heart pounded in my ears. The door was old, its paint chipped, but the brass handle gleamed. I took a deep breath and reached out.

A small wooden sign hung on the old, weathered wall, green vines curling around it.

The vines were thick with summer leaves, and little white flowers peeked out between the twists. The sign swayed gently in the breeze.

On it were three words: Dream House.

The letters were carved deep, worn smooth by time. I traced them with my finger, half afraid it would all disappear.

I pushed open the door and was greeted by a world of pink—a small house awash in pink.

The light inside was soft and warm, like the glow of a sunset. Everything was tinted rose. The curtains, the cushions, even the air seemed to shimmer with possibility. I caught the faint scent of vanilla and something floral, and the sound of a distant clock ticking somewhere.

Inside were all kinds of delicate trinkets. At the counter, a pretty girl with a high ponytail was dozing.

She looked about my age. Freckles scattered across her nose. The counter was cluttered with tiny glass animals, dreamcatchers, and a bowl of pastel mints.

The wind chimes at the door woke her. She yawned and stretched, her eyes still sleepy.

She blinked, brushed a strand of hair from her face, and offered a sleepy smile. It made the room feel even softer.

When she saw me, her gaze instantly brightened and she straightened up. “Welcome! I’m Tessa Lane, the Dream House messenger.”

Her voice was sweet and instantly put me at ease.

It had a musical lilt to it, like she was used to welcoming strangers into magical places. I felt a little less nervous.

I looked around, then walked to the counter and placed the pink card on it. “I want to buy a dream.”

My hands trembled just a little. I watched her eyes widen as she took the card, as if she already knew what I was going to say.

“Welcome, Ms. Cassidy Hart.”

She said my name like it meant something special. For a moment, I let myself believe it did.

“Have you thought it through? Once the transaction is confirmed, there’s no turning back. You only get one chance.”

Her words carried weight. Like a warning and a blessing, all at once. I nodded, my resolve hardening.

“I’ve thought it through. I won’t regret it.” My voice was firm, not a hint of doubt.

I’d carried this wish for so long, it felt like a part of me. I looked her in the eye, daring her to challenge me.

Tessa took out a white feather and handed it to me. My breath caught.

It was impossibly soft, almost glowing. My fingers tingled as I took it from her, the promise of magic heavy in the air.

“Write your dream on it. Within three days, we’ll deliver your dream to you.”

She slid a silver pen across the counter. The feather quivered in my hand, waiting for my words.

Without hesitation, I wrote down my dream—solemn, careful. I’d been thinking about this for three years.

The words flowed easily, as if they’d been waiting for this moment. I pressed the feather to my heart before handing it back.

It had never changed.

Not once. Through all the pain, all the longing, my wish stayed the same: to see Eli again, just one more time.

“This is the product manual. You can look it over before you decide.”

Tessa handed me a delicate card, covered in tiny print. I glanced at it—just a blur—then looked away.

The words blurred together. I already knew what I wanted. No warning could change my mind.

“I’ve decided.”

I was too eager to finish this transaction. I’d waited so long for this moment, I didn’t want to wait another second.

My hands shook. God, every second felt like an eternity.

“Transaction successful.” Tessa accepted the feather. “Please look forward to meeting your dream!”

She smiled. For a moment, I thought I saw a hint of sadness in her eyes. But it was gone as quickly as it came.

As I left, I noticed a strange look on Tessa’s smiling face.

It was fleeting—pity, maybe. Or understanding. I wanted to ask, but the words wouldn’t come.

I glanced back at the tightly closed wooden door behind me, but soon forgot about it.

The world outside felt different, like I was walking through a memory. The rain started to fall, heavy and relentless.

And then it started to rain. Really rain.

Thunder rumbled in the distance, and the sky cracked open. I pulled my hood up, but it did little to keep me dry.

I hadn’t brought an umbrella. So I ran to a bus stop for shelter.

My sneakers squeaked on the wet pavement. I huddled under the shelter, shivering as the rain came down in sheets.

My hair and clothes were soaked, and the wind made the chill seep deep into my bones.

I wrapped my arms around myself, teeth chattering. Summer rain was supposed to be warm, but this felt like winter pressing in.

Weird. It was summer, but the rain felt so cold.

The world was gray and blurred, the kind of rain that makes everything feel far away.

Next to me stood two high school students in letterman jackets.

They looked so young—faces flushed, laughter bubbling between them. I felt a pang of nostalgia. Sharp. Sudden. It hit me hard.

The boy took off his jacket and draped it over the girl’s head to shield her from the rain, and the girl pulled out tissues to wipe the rain from his face.

They were awkward and sweet—the way only teenagers can be. Their voices were soft, private, but I couldn’t help but listen.

They looked at each other and smiled.

It was the kind of smile that made you believe in happy endings. I turned away, trying not to intrude on their moment.

I watched them, and memories flashed before my eyes like a slideshow, finally settling on one person.

Every laugh, every shared secret, every stolen glance—it all came rushing back. Eli’s face shone brightest among them all.

I once ran through the rain with him, sharing a hoodie. I hid under his arm, breathing in his faint scent—clean laundry and something citrus—my heart racing with secret happiness.

We’d laughed until our sides hurt, puddles splashing beneath our feet. His arm around my shoulders felt like the safest place in the world.

“Did you get another love note today?” the girl asked the boy, as if it were nothing.

Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of jealousy beneath it. The boy just grinned, unbothered.

The boy smiled. “Didn’t even look. I tossed it.”

He shrugged, pretending not to care, but his cheeks turned pink. The girl giggled, nudging him with her elbow.

The girl couldn’t hide her smile.

She looked at him like he was the only person in the world. My heart twisted—happy for them, aching for what I’d lost.

I watched them, my gaze wavering.

I blinked back tears, the scene blurring before me. It was like watching my own memories play out in front of me, sweet and bittersweet all at once.

I remembered the letter I’d written to Eli. God, I never gave it to him.

‘When spring comes and everything comes alive, can I invite you to see the cherry blossoms with me?’

I never had the courage to give it to him in person. It sat in my drawer for weeks, the words growing heavier with every day that passed.

In Maple Heights’ spring, the cherry trees bloomed in clusters. Girls lined up to invite him to see the blossoms—there were so many, they could’ve broken down the door.

It was a rite of passage, almost—a parade of hopefuls, each one dreaming of being the girl on his arm beneath the blossoms.

He turned them all down. Always with a smile.

He was always kind, never cruel. His rejections were gentle, his eyes full of apology.

I teased him, “There are flowers and beauties—why not go?”

He laughed softly, his eyes shining like stars. “The flowers are beautiful and the girls are lovely, but I only want to go with the one I like.”

The words echoed in my mind, a secret wish I dared not speak aloud. I wondered if he knew I was hoping he meant me.

He gave me just an ordinary smile. But in my heart, spring flowers bloomed for him.

That smile was enough to carry me through the hardest days. It was hope, pure and simple.

I don’t know if he ever got my letter, or what he thought of it.

Sometimes I imagine him finding it years later, smiling at my awkward handwriting. Maybe he knew all along.

I watched the two students. My eyes grew wet.

The ache in my chest threatened to spill over. I turned away, wiping at my cheeks before anyone could see.

I lowered my head, my fingers tracing the wallpaper on my phone.

The screen lit up with Eli’s face, frozen in time. I’d never changed it, never could.

The boy in the picture was holding a stick of candied strawberries, his features as delicate as a painting. I could almost taste the sugar, see the glint of sunlight on the candy.

On my fifteenth birthday, I bombed a big question on a practice test. The homeroom teacher really laid into me.

I’d held back tears all day, embarrassed and angry. By the time the final bell rang, I just wanted to disappear.

By the time I left, school was over. The building was nearly empty.

The hallways echoed with my footsteps. Lockers slammed in the distance, but I felt utterly alone.

I trudged back to my classroom, only to find Eli still there.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, waiting for me. His smile was easy, unhurried.

He stood at the door. Suddenly, he pulled out two sticks of candied strawberries from behind his back.

“Happy birthday!”

His voice was bright, teasing. He held out the candy like it was the greatest treasure in the world.

My mood instantly lifted, and I smiled.

All the anger and sadness melted away. I couldn’t help but laugh, the sound ringing down the empty hallway.

I was so happy—my favorite person had given me my favorite treat.

It felt like a secret, just for us. I tucked the moment away, keeping it close.

“Feeling better?” He patted the top of my head, gently ruffling my hair.

His touch was soft. Reassuring. I leaned into it, wishing the moment could last forever.

I bit into a strawberry and nodded softly.

The sweetness exploded on my tongue, and for a moment, everything was perfect. Just me, him, and the promise of better days.

In the quiet hallway, my heartbeat was deafening.

It echoed in my ears, louder than any words I could have said.

My beloved boy. I miss you so much.

I whispered it to the empty air, hoping he could hear me wherever he was.

“Eli, I miss you. I miss you so much.”

The words trembled, barely more than a breath. I pressed my phone to my chest, as if it could bring him closer.

“I really, really want to see you.”

I closed my eyes, letting the rain mask my tears. The longing was a living thing inside me, sharp and insistent.

I looked at the wet ground, my mood just as damp.

Raindrops splattered at my feet, pooling around my sneakers. The world felt heavy. Like it might never be bright again. I swallowed, wishing for a sign.

Suddenly, a pair of white sneakers appeared in my line of sight. I froze.

They were spotless, impossibly bright against the gray sidewalk. My breath caught in my throat.

I slowly looked up and saw his figure.

He stood just as I remembered—tall. Easy smile. Eyes that sparkled even on the gloomiest days. His jacket was the same blue as always, and for a second, I swore I could smell the faint scent of his cologne.

He was holding an umbrella, shielding me from the rain.

The world seemed to tilt, colors sharpening around him. The rain softened, falling in gentle waves just beyond the circle of his umbrella. My hands started to shake.

My gaze trembled, my eyes filling with tears.

I reached out, half afraid he’d disappear if I blinked. My heart thudded painfully, hope and fear tangled together.

His features—exactly as I’d drawn them, over and over, in my sketchbook.

Every line, every shadow—he was perfect, just as I’d remembered. My hands shook, wanting to memorize every detail all over again.

Eli, Eli…

His name echoed in my mind, a prayer, a plea.

My fingers shook. I wanted to touch his face, but I was afraid it was all just an illusion—afraid to reach out.

I hesitated, my hand hovering in the space between us. I didn’t want to shatter the moment, didn’t want to wake up.

He took my hand and placed it on his cheek, his warm breath passing from my palm straight to my heart. I closed my eyes. God, I wanted this to be real.

His skin was warm, real. I felt the steady beat of his heart beneath my fingers. For the first time in years, I let myself believe.

He said, "I came to see you." My heart stopped.

His voice was gentle, familiar—a melody I’d almost forgotten. The world faded away, leaving just the two of us.

“Eli.”

I called his name, tears streaming down my face.

My voice broke, but I didn’t care. I wanted him to know, to hear how much I’d missed him.

At last, I saw you. Finally.

And in that moment, the world felt whole again, if only for a heartbeat. The rain, the years, the longing—they all fell away, leaving just hope and love, shining bright as ever.