And Then It Rained (Sequel to Rain Again; Stand Alone Book) (Completed)

Chapter Five: Memory of an Autumn

Parked outside Antelmo's apartment building, Victoria just sat inside her car, wanting to relish the relief of getting back it back for a little longer.

She had already been to the police station and then the bank this morning to file a GD for her missing bank cards and apply for new ones. Meanwhile, after much contemplation, she filed a GD against Adi as well, regardless of the uncertainty she felt about the backlashes she might have to face for that. However, the police's initial reaction after hearing everything was disappointment in her heading over to them late. Although a female officer viewed her bruises, Victoria was enlightened she didn't make a smart move by not going over to a hospital or contacting the law enforcers immediately. She had also bathed plenty of times in the past few days, washing off any leftover fingerprints.

But didn't Victoria already know all these? She did very well.

In fact, if something like this happened to someone else, Victoria acknowledged that perhaps she would have told them the same thing-that they should have gone to the hospital earlier-that they should have called the police immediately.

After being abused or getting sexually violated, the first thing women usually do is to try to remove any remnants of the culprit from their bodies-their souls. Or they delay telling anyone-in fear, in shame, in confusion. As if it were their vice. Not the other way around.

And all that washes away the proofs the law requires, literally.

Victoria had been telling herself it was her lack of time and money. But should she dare acknowledge too that those were only excuses!

She was a teenager when her father first beat her. She was too afraid of him, still, she loved him until it became too toxic.

Now, she was braver to defy him in a thousand ways. Yet, the acknowledgment echoed around- she was still afraid of him-of men like him.

Through the gap between the front seats, Victoria grabbed the black garbage bag and dragged it to the front.

Opening it gave her the feeling of precious relief.

"Ah!" It was as if she got the air in her lungs back, seeing her phone inside. She noticed the only thing it had to suffer was a long, vertical scratch across the screen protector.

Then her eyes fell on the other stuff that looked excitedly, peeking up her way eagerly-the light beige color cover of her diary of memories.

People find belongingness in their own family mostly. Well, Victoria found it in a few choice things.

One of them was the diary.

It was something she found while moving around in a local village marketplace during the only tour she ever took back to her home country - India. Although she was born and raised in Asthel, her father was actually from Goa-a coastal state next to the Arabian seas with beautiful emerald beaches, blue skies, and salty wind.

In the now open diary in her hand, one of her best photographs of the Goa tour stared back at her. No, she was not in that photo but the surreal sea during sunset and the silhouette of a faraway ship. At the very right, there was also an ancient lighthouse-built by the Portuguese. For her, this photo was the summary of her entire tour.

An entire story of thousands of words can be captured in a photograph.

On their own accord, her fingers flipped the page. Her eyes softened and a smile formed on her lips, seeing the glued, red and yellow autumn leaf. And as her fingertips trailed on its laminated surface, she recalled the moments that made that particular memory.

☁️

The falling leaves of autumn looked like they were confetti-raining down around her as she stood at the lakeside, zooming in with a little twist to the lens, trying to catch the exact beauty of this place with her new camera. Sure, she found it in a garage sale, but hell, it worked like a wonder.