Do You like Rain or do you like Sunrise -Rom-Com: Library Whispers”

 

🎞️ Episode 5 — “Library Whispers”
(from “The Wall Letters” series)

FADE IN:

INT. SCHOOL HALLWAY — AFTERNOON
The rain’s stopped, but everything smells like it still remembers.
Wet shoes squeak. Locker doors slam. My heart hasn’t decided what rhythm it wants yet.

The doodle — our doodle — is still there.
The umbrella, the scrambled-egg sun, and those words:

“Maybe we should meet halfway — a sunrise after rain.”

I trace the outline of the umbrella with my eyes, like it’s a secret map.
Then I see it — a faint smudge of pencil just below the corner. Tiny handwriting.
Almost invisible.

“Library, top shelf, Row D.”

CUT TO:

INT. SCHOOL LIBRARY — EVENING
It’s quieter than quiet.
The kind of quiet where even thoughts echo.

I make my way to Row D. The smell of old paper and something comforting — like dust and déjà vu.
Top shelf. Of course. Why do mystery writers always pick the most inconvenient shelves?

I stand on tiptoe. The books lean like sleepy soldiers.
Then I see it — a faded spine:

“Rain or Sunrise — Anthology of Classic Letters.”

I pull it down carefully. The cover flakes like old paint. Inside, a note flutters out.
Blue ink. Familiar handwriting.

“You said every day deserves a do-over. Maybe this is mine.”
— R.

CUT TO:

I look around.
The librarian’s desk is empty.
A window is cracked open — the rain outside whispering again, softer this time.

WHISPER (O.S.)
(barely audible)
“Looking for something?”

I turn.
Just a silhouette between shelves — messy hair, dark hoodie, hands in pockets.
My pulse forgets how to behave.

ME
“I—uh—just reading.”

SILHOUETTE
(smiling)
“In the poetry section? That’s brave.”

He steps closer. Light hits his face — enough to show a half-grin.
The kind that’s both confident and uncertain at the same time.
I know that grin. I’ve seen it in passing, in reflections, in the way my heart skips when certain footsteps echo.

ME
“You left the note.”

HIM
“Maybe.”
(beat)
“Maybe I just like libraries.”

ME
(quietly)
“Then why the wall?”

He pauses.
A moment stretches between us like a string pulled too tight.

HIM
“Because walls listen. People don’t.”

Silence again. Except for the rain. And the sound of something soft cracking open — not thunder, not glass.
Just realization.

ME
“So what now?”

He looks at me — really looks — and says:

“Now we see what happens after the rain.”

CUT TO BLACK.

(to be continued…)