The Girl from the Yellow Umbrella

The first time Tunde saw her, she was dancing alone in the rain with a yellow umbrella.

He was on his way home from work, stuck under the leaky tin roof of a roadside kiosk, watching Lagos traffic crawl like a lazy snake. Rain fell like it was personal. Everyone was miserable—except her.

She twirled. She laughed. Her umbrella spun above her like a sunflower caught in the wind.

For a moment, Tunde forgot the wet socks in his shoes. He forgot the client who cursed at him that morning. He forgot he was alone.

And just like that, she disappeared into a danfo and was gone.

A Second Chance

For weeks, Tunde looked out for her. He walked the same street at the same time, hoping the rain would come again. He told himself it was silly—chasing after a stranger who danced in the rain—but something about her had cracked him open.

Then one Saturday afternoon, it rained again.

And there she was.

Same yellow umbrella. Same joy. This time, she was walking instead of dancing. She paused by a bookstand and picked up a novel.

Tunde approached slowly.

“I think you dropped something last time it rained,” he said, heart pounding.

She turned. Her smile could’ve stopped traffic.

“What was it?”

“My peace of mind.”

She laughed. “Smooth.”

“I’ve been rehearsing that line for three weeks.”

“I can tell.”

They stood in the rain, the city blurring behind them, and for a second, it felt like the universe had rewound just for him.

What Rain Reveals

Her name was Zara. She loved secondhand books, street music, and hated umbrellas—except the yellow one, which was her late mother’s. She said she danced in the rain to feel alive, to feel something other than loss.

Tunde understood that more than he let on.

They talked until the rain stopped. Then until the sun set. Then until a vendor began to pack up his wares, and they realized they’d been standing there for hours.

Falling Without Warning

Over the next month, they met again. And again. Sometimes in the rain, sometimes under clear skies. They read books together. Tried out food stalls. Sat in silence and let the world rush past them.

Tunde didn’t know when it happened, exactly—but one day he caught her reading while curled up in his living room, glasses on, hair tied in a careless bun, and he just knew.

He was in love with the girl from the yellow umbrella.

The Goodbye That Wasn’t

And then one day, she didn’t show up.

He waited in the usual spot. Called. Messaged. Nothing.

Days passed. A week. Two. Her number went straight to voicemail.

Tunde felt the old familiar ache return—the one he thought he had buried. That people always leave. That joy is temporary. That maybe magic isn’t real after all.

Until a letter arrived.

Dear Tunde,

I didn’t want to disappear. Life forced me to pause. I had to take care of something personal—family, healing, space. But I never forgot you. You’re the first person who saw me, not just the girl in the rain. I hope I haven’t lost you.

– Zara.

He reread the letter five times.

Then it rained.

The Return

He waited in their spot, just in case.

She arrived.

No umbrella this time. Just herself.

“I lost the yellow one,” she said softly.

Tunde opened his bag and pulled out a new yellow umbrella.

“You didn’t lose it. You left it with me.”

She smiled. Not the wide one from before. A quieter, more tired smile. But it was real. And it was enough.

She stepped into his arms, and they stood under that yellow umbrella as the rain poured around them.