365 Days of Rain, 365 Days of Her, Zero Days of Me Chapter 06

365 Days of Rain, 365 Days of Her, Zero Days of Me Chapter 06

He tore down to the garage and turned the key. The tank was empty.

Julian slammed the steering wheel.

Rain hit him the second he stepped outside. He pulled up the rideshare app — no drivers available and surge pricing was through the roof.

For the first time in a year, he took the subway.

The car was packed, hot, and reeked. Julian shut his eyes and tried not to think.

Two hours of transfers and crowds later, he was finally standing outside the apartment door. His shoes had been trampled on the subway and were soaked through.

For the first time, he understood why Audrey hated the rain here.

Back when they used to commute together, the trip felt like nothing — they’d talk the whole way and the time would vanish.

But she’d been making this trip alone for a year. He was starting to realize what kind of person he’d been.

Julian punched in the door code, desperate to get inside, to hold her, to say everything he should’ve said months ago.

The lock beeped.

Wrong code.

He frowned, tried again slowly — one digit at a time.

Still wrong.

Something cold slid through his chest. He started pounding on the door.

“Audrey! Audrey, open the door — please. I know I messed up!”

Nothing.

He kept pounding. The motion-sensor light in the hallway flickered off and back on. Then the door swung open — but it wasn’t Audrey.

A stranger stood there, guarded.

“Who the hell are you?”

“Who the hell are you?”

Julian shoved past him into the apartment. Two steps in, he stopped.

The furniture was all there — the same pieces — but the place felt gutted.

The fridge door was bare. Every magnet, every decoration she’d loved, all of it — gone.

A couple of black trash bags sat by the door — his clothes.

The new tenant shoved him back. Julian stumbled, caught himself on his hands against the floor, and hissed.

A stray shard of glass bit into his palm.

Glass?

His mind went blank. Why would there be glass on the floor?

“Oh — you’re the ex. Take your stuff and get out. I only kept it because you left all that furniture behind.”

The new tenant looked down at Julian, still on the floor, and lost his patience.

“You still here? Move it, or I’m calling the cops.”

Julian stood in the lobby, the trash bags in his hands, still trying to process it.

She was gone.

The tenant’s last words were still ringing in his ears.

“How should I know where she went? Aren’t you supposed to be her boyfriend?”

It finally landed.

The breakup wasn’t a bluff. It wasn’t a tantrum.

She’d meant it.

And the girl who used to look at him like he was her whole world was gone.

…

The sky in Sunhaven was always blue — wide open, not a cloud.

Valerie called just as I was locking up my bike.

“Julian showed up again. Am I seriously the only person he can think to ask? Funny how he’s panicking now — where was all this energy before?”

“Yeah… sorry he keeps bothering you.”

She sighed. “Don’t worry about it. I got rid of him. So — how’s Sunhaven treating you?”

“Really good.”

My new place was a ten-minute bike ride from the office. No more two-hour commutes.

Nobody to tell me the guest room was off-limits.

I’d adopted the cutest puppy. The sun here was soft and warm, and I hadn’t touched an umbrella since I’d arrived.

The team was great, and a real opportunity had landed in my lap almost immediately.

I was still mid-sentence when I heard a commotion on Valerie’s end.

The phone rustled, and suddenly it wasn’t Valerie’s voice anymore.

“Audrey! You’re in Sunhaven? Where? I’m coming right now—”

The line went dead.

Valerie must have snatched the phone back. I didn’t let it ruin my morning.

The new project had my full attention — exactly the kind of challenge I’d been craving. The only problem was, the past kept showing up uninvited.

It started with texts from an unknown number.

[I bought all the furniture back. But it’s not the same. It doesn’t smell

like our place anymore.]

[The apartment dumpsters still had the bags. You really don’t want

any of it? Five years of us?]

[I sold the car. It’s pouring today, and the water by the subway station

was up past my ankles… I’m sorry. I didn’t know it was like this.]

For a second, I could feel it again – the rain soaking through my

He hadn’t just found out.

He’d always known.

He just forgot – forgot the commute, forgot the flooded streets,

And now, so had I.