es, though, were the most striking—green and intense, as if they held the answers to questions she hadn’t even asked yet.
“I’m terribly sorry to bother you, but would you mind sharing your umbrella? I seem to have forgotten mine.” He gestured to the empty space next to him where his umbrella should have been.
Eleanor blinked, caught off guard by his directness. She scanned his face, noting the genuine warmth in his expression. It was unusual to be approached this way, and for a moment, she considered walking away. But something about him intrigued her—his confidence, the calmness in the midst of the storm.
Without a word, she handed him the umbrella, watching as he opened it. The rain had intensified, and the thought of standing in it for much longer was unbearable.
"Thank you," he said, tipping his head slightly as they both huddled beneath the small umbrella.
Eleanor offered a tight smile, still unsure how to react. "It’s fine. You’re welcome."