I remember one rainy evening, I decided on a whim to drive out to the old lighthouse at the end of the pier, no map, just the feeling that the storm was whispering a secret. The wind rattled the windows, the waves crashed against the stones, and I stood there, feeling as if the whole world had paused just for me. That single, spontaneous moment became a quiet, luminous chapter in my heart, a story that I keep rereading whenever the rain starts to fall again.

That’s exactly what I’m hoping for—let the rain be my compass and the lighthouse my quiet storyteller. I’ll chase those drops and see where they lead, because each one feels like a tiny spark waiting to light up a new chapter.