A Letter to the Rain and Accidental Love

I've always loved the rain. It taps softly on the windows, painting strange pictures with its drops on the glass, as if reminding me: everything flows, everything changes, everything can begin anew. One such evening, when the gray sky seemed especially deep, I opened a dating app https://www.sofiadate.com/dating-tips/what-does-nsa-mean-in-text . Not expecting miracles, just to feel: somewhere out there, someone was searching, just like me.

At first, it was empty dialogue. A few messages that seemed more like random noise. But then he appeared. Like light breaking through the clouds. A simple "Hello" turned into a chain of conversations that lasted until late at night. His words were like rain—soft, quiet, but they left a mark on me.

We wrote about books, about music, about small joys and strange fears. I shared things I usually kept hidden, and he listened. And the more we talked, the more I realized: dating isn't about quick encounters or superficial curiosity. It's about finding a reflection of yourself in another person.

Our first meeting was that same rainy evening. He stood under his umbrella, drops of water glistening on his shoulders. We laughed, hiding under the roof of a café, and the world around us seemed to dissolve. Long walks along wet streets, the aroma of coffee mingling with laughter—it all felt familiar, even though we were meeting for the first time.

With each passing day, our text messages grew closer, and our meetings longer. We shared morning thoughts, photos of the rain outside the windows, small joys. Dating gradually ceased to be just a screen and an algorithm—it became a bridge connecting our lives.

I realized that love can begin quietly. It can be hidden in notifications, in short messages, in random coincidences. But if you're open, if you let your heart feel, it comes. It comes when you least expect it, and it stays close even when the rain stops and the sky clears.

Now, when I hear the rain pattering on the window, I remember our first conversations. And I understand: dating isn't just about finding a partner; it's an opportunity to relearn to trust, to open up, and to rejoice in small miracles. After all, love sometimes comes quietly, between the lines, like rain that washes away fatigue and leaves a clean slate.

And if it rains again tomorrow, I know that somewhere out there, someone is also opening a screen, texting a simple "Hello," and looking for me.