Mai had been thinking about Khanh’s promise all evening.
Not exactly a promise. Khanh hadn’t even said what time, and he hadn’t told her where to stand. He’d only said: If it rains tomorrow, stand at the school gate and wait for me.
It sounded like nothing special.
And yet Mai had set the blue umbrella beside the door the night before, as if simply being prepared meant it would definitely rain tomorrow.
The next morning, the sky was perfectly clear.
There wasn’t a single big cloud. The air still carried the slight chill of early fall. Mai’s mother looked out the window and said:
“Why are you bringing an umbrella when the weather’s this beautiful?”
Mai bent down to put on her shoes.
“I… just happened to grab it.”
“You happened to grab it, and you even cleaned it like it was something precious.”
“Mom!”
Her mother laughed and didn’t ask anything else. Mai hugged her backpack and walked out of the house, the blue umbrella swinging at her side. She knew she was doing something a little ridiculous. But what if she didn’t bring it and it really did rain?
And if it didn’t rain… she could still return the umbrella to Khanh.
Except she’d already returned it yesterday.
Mai slowed down in the middle of the familiar street. She came up with one reason after another, but deep down, she knew exactly what she was hoping for.
She wanted to see Khanh.
When she reached the school gate, Mai checked her watch.
Seven fifteen.
It was still very early. Only a few students on classroom duty were in the school courtyard. She stood beneath a crape myrtle tree, one hand gripping the umbrella handle, glancing now and then toward the road outside the gate.
Seven twenty.
Seven twenty-five.
Khanh still hadn’t arrived.
Mai was beginning to feel completely ridiculous. He’d only said, “Maybe it’ll be right,” and he might not even remember what he’d said. Meanwhile, she was really standing here with an umbrella on a beautiful sunny day, waiting for rain that might or might not come.
“Mai?”
Lan appeared behind her, holding two cartons of milk.
“What are you doing standing here?”
“Waiting for a friend.”
“Which friend?”
“A friend…”
Before Mai could say anything, Lan spotted the umbrella.
“Khanh?”
“No.”
“You haven’t even heard me out.”
“I can tell just by looking.”
Lan handed her a carton of milk, her eyes half amused and half suspicious.
“You know, people usually bring umbrellas when it’s raining. You brought one when it’s sunny, then stood staring at the school gate like the heroine in a romance movie.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m not talking nonsense. I’m just observing a strange phenomenon.”
Mai was about to argue when a bicycle stopped in front of the gate. Khanh got off, his hair slightly mussed, one hand on the handlebars and a bag of bread in the other. He was still catching his breath as he checked his watch.
“Sorry, I’m late.”
Mai looked at him.
“You didn’t have an appointment with me.”
“I did.”
Khanh parked his bike in line and walked over to her.
“Yesterday, I told you to stand at the school gate and wait for me.”
“But it didn’t rain.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“You knew and still came?”
Khanh held the bag of bread out in front of her.
“Because I guessed you’d wait anyway.”
Mai stared at him.
Beside her, Lan immediately turned away and pretended to drink her milk, but her shoulders shook as she tried not to laugh.
“Your guess was wrong,” Mai said, trying to keep her voice casual. “I just happened to be standing here.”
“Yeah.”
“I mean it.”
“Yeah.”
“Don’t laugh.”
“I’m not laughing.”
Khanh said that, but the corners of his mouth had already curled up unmistakably.
Mai snatched the bag of bread.
“What’s this?”
“Breakfast.”
“For me?”
“No. For the person who happened to be standing under the school gate.”
Mai stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help laughing. It was only one sentence, but the awkwardness in her heart suddenly felt lighter.
The three of them went to class together. Lan deliberately slowed down, letting Mai and Khanh walk ahead. As they walked, Khanh told Mai how he’d nearly been chased by a dog that morning because he’d stopped to buy bread. When he got to the part about running away while still trying to protect the bag, Mai laughed so hard she had to grab the railing.
“What are you laughing so happily about?” Khanh asked.
“Because you’re an idiot.”
“At least I managed to buy the bread.”
“What for?”
Khanh looked straight ahead.
“So you wouldn’t go hungry.”
He said it so naturally. So naturally that Mai didn’t know how to respond. She looked down, unwrapped the bread, and took a small bite. The egg filling was still warm.
Khanh glanced over.
“Is it good?”
“It’s okay.”
“Only okay?”
“Yep.”
“Then give it back.”
Khanh reached for it. Mai immediately turned away.
“I’ve already eaten it. I can’t give it back.”
“Just like yesterday.”
“You really hold a grudge.”
“Because someone keeps mooching off me.”
Mai took another bite, trying to hide her smile behind the bread.
First period was math. The teacher handed back a short quiz from the previous week. Khanh had the highest score in class, while Mai had gotten one geometry question wrong even though she’d thought she’d solved it correctly. Seeing the red number at the top of her paper, she angrily crossed out the same line in her notebook again and again.
Khanh turned around.
“You made a mistake here.”
“I know.”
“If you know, why are you crossing it out?”
“To make myself feel less annoyed.”
Khanh looked at her work, then pointed at the diagram with his pencil.
“You missed a condition in the problem. If you add this segment, the two angles are equal.”
Mai followed the tip of his pencil. Khanh explained more slowly than usual, without saying things like, “This is easy,” or “How do you not know this?” He patiently went through each step, only turning back around after she was able to solve it herself.
“Do you understand?”
“Yeah.”
“Really?”
“Really.”
“Then explain it back to me.”
Mai’s eyes widened.
“Are you a teacher?”
“No. I just want to make sure I didn’t waste my time explaining it.”
Mai picked up her pen and repeated the solution. When she finished, Khanh nodded.
“Okay, good.”
“Do I get a reward?”
“You do.”
“What?”
“Don’t get it wrong next time.”
Mai lightly kicked the leg of his chair.
Khanh laughed and turned back around before the teacher could see.
During recess, the class president announced that the decorating group had to stay after school to finish the display board for the camping trip. The whole group groaned because they still hadn’t finished their weekend homework. Mai checked the supply list and realized they were out of watercolor paint and some small string lights.
“I’ll go buy them,” she said.
“This afternoon?” Lan asked.
“Yeah. If we don’t buy them, we won’t finish tonight.”
Khanh was drinking water at the next desk. As soon as he heard that, he set down his bottle.
“I’ll go with you.”
“You don’t have to. I can go myself.”
“I know.”
“Then why are you coming?”
“Because I’m in the group too.”
Lan crossed her arms and looked at the two of them.
“There are four people in the group, so why are only the two of you going?”
“The others are busy,” Khanh answered quickly.
“Busy with what?”
“Busy… doing homework.”
Lan looked at the untouched stack of homework on Khanh’s desk, then looked at Mai. In the end, she only shrugged.
“Fine, you two go. Make sure you get the right colors.”
After school, Mai and Khanh rode their bikes to the stationery store near the market. The road from school wasn’t far, but there was more traffic than she’d expected. Khanh rode on the outside, angling his bike slightly to shield Mai whenever a truck passed. He didn’t say anything about it. It was just like the way he’d always tilted the umbrella toward her the day before—doing something small, then acting like it was nothing.
The store was crowded with students. Mai held the list and walked along the aisles.
“Sky blue, yellow, white. Small string lights. Clear tape. Scissors.”
“What else?” Khanh asked.
“Glitter.”
“No.”
“Why not?”
“Because last time you spilled glitter all over the classroom, and the teacher had to sweep it up until the next day.”
“But it looked pretty.”
“Pretty for five minutes. Five hours of cleaning.”
Mai picked up a jar of glitter and gave him a challenging look.
“You don’t like it?”
“No.”
“Then I’m buying it.”
“Mai.”
“What?”
“You’re using the group’s money.”
Mai immediately put the glitter back down.
“Fine. You win.”
“It’s not me winning. It’s the budget.”
“You’re so practical it’s annoying.”
“Thank you.”
“That wasn’t a compliment.”
“But I’m taking it as one.”
The two of them stood in the narrow aisle and laughed together. Mai couldn’t remember when being around Khanh had become so easy. He didn’t do anything especially remarkable. He was just always there at the right time, saying random things that made her laugh even when she was tired.
At the register, Mai realized she hadn’t brought enough money. She rummaged through her backpack, counting her small bills again and again, but she was still short.
“I’ll cover it for now,” Khanh said.
“No. I’ll pay you back.”
“I know.”
“Don’t forget.”
“Who do you think I am?”
“Someone who said yesterday that he could run in the rain.”
Khanh laughed and handed the money to the cashier.
When they left the store, a sudden gust of wind swept through. Gray clouds appeared from nowhere and covered the afternoon sunlight. Mai looked up.
“Maybe it really is going to rain.”
Khanh glanced at the blue umbrella hanging from her handlebars.
“See? I told you, maybe I was right.”
“You don’t even check the weather.”
“I don’t need to. I have a feeling.”
“Your feelings have only been right once.”
“But it was the important time.”
Before Mai could ask what he meant by “important,” the first raindrops fell onto the pavement.
The rain came faster than either of them expected. They hurried to push their bikes beneath the awning of a closed store. Khanh opened the blue umbrella, but the handle had come loose. He fiddled with it for a while, and the umbrella only opened halfway before tilting to one side.
Mai laughed.
“Your umbrella’s broken.”
“It’s not broken. It just has a little personality.”
“What kind of personality doesn’t keep you dry?”
Khanh tried to fix it, but one of the ribs had gotten caught. He pulled too hard, making the umbrella shake and dumping rainwater straight onto Mai’s shoulder.
They both froze.
Then Khanh turned away, trying not to laugh.
“You’re laughing?” Mai asked.
“I’m sad.”
“You’re sad with a face that happy?”
“Because you just said the umbrella has personality.”
Mai took tissues from her bag and wiped her shoulder. The moment Khanh saw, he took the shopping bags from her.
“Give them to me.”
“No need.”
“Wipe your shirt.”
“Can you carry both bags?”
“Yeah.”
“What if you drop something?”
“Then I’ll pick it up.”
“What if it gets wet?”
Khanh looked at her, his voice suddenly gentler.
“Then we’ll buy it again.”
His answer left Mai silent. Outside, the rain fell harder, drawing a white curtain across the road. In the cramped space beneath the awning, the two of them stood very close together. The blue umbrella between them couldn’t keep all the rain out, but it was enough to preserve a small, dry space.
Mai looked at Khanh’s hand gripping the bags. There was a small scratch on his finger, probably from pushing his bike over the rough patch of road earlier.
“You’re hurt.”
“Where?”
“Your finger.”
“It’s nothing.”
“You always say it’s nothing.”
“Because it really is nothing.”
Mai took a Band-Aid from her wallet and held it out to him.
“Put this on.”
Khanh didn’t take it right away.
“You always carry stuff like that?”
“Yeah. Lan says I’m always prepared like a little old lady.”
“Do you have headache medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Stomach medicine?”
“Yes.”
“Medicine for…”
“If something’s wrong, just say it.”
Khanh laughed and took the Band-Aid from her hand.
“Nothing’s wrong. I just wanted to see if your bag was a convenience store.”
“Don’t use my stuff for no reason.”
Khanh lowered his head and put the Band-Aid on his finger. His movements were clumsy, and he stuck it crookedly to one side. Mai watched for a few seconds, then held out her hand.
“Let me do it.”
Khanh looked up.
“No need.”
“Give me your hand.”
“Mai…”
“You put it on terribly.”
Without waiting for his permission, Mai took Khanh’s hand. It was warmer than she’d expected. She carefully peeled off the Band-Aid and wrapped a new one neatly around his scratched finger.
Khanh was silent.
Mai was silent too.
Only the sound of the rain filled the space between them.
When she finished, she let go of his hand quickly.
“There.”
“Thanks.”
“No problem.”
Khanh was still looking at his finger. A moment later, he said:
“Mai.”
“Yeah?”
“If you ever need someone to go shopping with you, just call me.”
“There are plenty of people in the group.”
“But the others don’t know how to choose colors.”
“You don’t know how either.”
“At least I know how to carry things.”
Mai turned to look at him. Khanh was staring out at the rain, his profile lit by the awning light. Maybe it was the lighting, or maybe it was something else, but he suddenly seemed different from usual.
A little more grown-up.
A little gentler too.
“Khanh.”
“Yeah?”
“Yesterday… you told me to stand at the gate and wait for you.”
“Yeah.”
“Did you know it was going to rain?”
“No.”
“Then why did you say that?”
Khanh was quiet for a few seconds. He lightly tapped the tiled ground with the toe of his shoe, as if searching for an answer that wouldn’t give too much away.
“Because you returned the umbrella to me yesterday.”
“So?”
“After you returned it, you wouldn’t have a reason to talk to me anymore.”
Mai heard every word clearly, but she still wasn’t sure she understood him correctly.
“You could’ve found a reason yourself.”
“Yeah. I’m trying.”
The rain continued to fall outside. But something between them seemed to have shifted, so slightly that they could barely feel it. Neither of them named it. Neither asked anything else. It was just that, from that moment on, Mai no longer thought yesterday’s promise had been something he’d said casually.
Khanh had wanted to see her.
And she had wanted to wait for him too.
About half an hour later, the rain began to ease. They walked their bikes back onto the road. Khanh carried the blue umbrella, but this time he didn’t tilt it completely toward Mai. He held it between them so they could both stay dry.
When they reached the front of Mai’s house, Khanh handed her the shopping bags.
“Mai, remember to bring the list tomorrow.”
“I know.”
“And don’t forget to pay me back for what I covered.”
“I know.”
“And one more thing.”
“What?”
Khanh propped the umbrella beside the fence and looked at her.
“Tomorrow, if it doesn’t rain…”
Mai waited.
“If it doesn’t rain, then what?”
“You’ll still wait for me at the school gate, okay?”
Mai looked at him, so surprised that she forgot to pretend to be calm.
“What for?”
Khanh smiled.
“So I’ll have a reason to walk to class with you.”
With that, he turned his bike around and rode away. Mai stood beneath the awning, watching Khanh’s silhouette disappear behind the rain-soaked trees.
She didn’t chase after him.
She didn’t call him back either.
She only looked down at the blue umbrella in her hands and smiled to herself.
Maybe tomorrow would still be sunny.
But Mai knew she would get to the school gate earlier than usual.
Not to wait for the rain.
To wait for Khanh.