After few days, rain came down in silver sheets, drumming against the penthouse windows with a rhythm that made Tae’s skin prickle. Hana was curled in her bedroom, earbuds in, oblivious—but Tae couldn’t sit still.

The thunder growled low, vibrating through her bare feet as she slipped through the sliding doors to the rooftop garden. The cold droplets hit her skin like tiny electric shocks, her thin white sundress turning translucent within seconds, clinging to every curve. She laughed, spinning—arms outstretched—until her hair plastered to her shoulders, the fabric suctioned to her nipples, her thighs glistening wet.