Taran always loved the rain, but today it felt different—softer, quieter, as if the clouds themselves were holding secrets just for her. She sat by her window, notebook in hand, tracing the paths of water droplets that slid lazily across the glass. Each droplet caught the dim light of the cloudy afternoon and seemed to glow, carrying stories she couldn’t yet understand. The rhythmic patter against the roof was comforting, yet it held a strange anticipation, like the sky was waiting for something.Then, she heard it—a faint, trembling voice that seemed to rise from the very rain itself.“Can you hear