Under the Yellow Umbrella

Ellen Walton had been single for 25 years until her mother handed her a book titled How to Find Love.

She wrote a post and set it only visible to family, "Single woman of marriageable age, seeking romance, the kind that leads to a wedding."

Pressured by constant marriage nagging, Ellen never imagined that borrowing an umbrella would lead to a boyfriend.

Was this part of his plan all along?

1

The sky was just beginning to lighten, the air heavy with sticky humidity.

Ellen jogged to the subway station, sweat beading on her skin.

She plopped onto a subway seat, panting, and pulled a book from her bag, fanning herself haphazardly until her breathing steadied.

Calm at last, Ellen glanced at the book in her hand. Her blood rushed to her face, her cheeks burning red even through three layers of a thick mask.

The book's cover screamed in bold letters, How to Find Love.

She stuffed it back into her bag, then casually glanced around.

Nobody saw that, right?

Her mother must have slipped it into her bag during her last visit home, Ellen thought, grinding her teeth. Her mother's words echoed in her mind, "A woman over 25 will struggle to find a partner."

A shiver ran through her.

It was her mother's birthday today. Though Ellen had already gone home to celebrate, she wanted to make her mother smile on the actual day.

She opened her social media, typed, "Single woman of marriageable age, seeking romance, the kind that leads to a wedding," set it to family-only, and posted.

Setting her phone down, Ellen's gaze drifted to the iPad of the person beside her, covered in intricate diagrams.

Her eyes wandered from the iPad, up the arm, past the crisp white shirt and sharp jawline, to the man's striking features.

The subway lights cast shadows in his deep-set eyes, his gaze fixed on the iPad through glasses, brows slightly furrowed, unwavering.

Through the sliver of his glasses, his eyes looked surprisingly soft.

Ellen couldn't help stealing a second, third, and fourth glance during the ride.

When she got off the subway and stepped onto the escalator, she realized it was raining outside.

June weather was as unpredictable. It had been hot and muggy before, but now a downpour soaked the city.

Raindrops hit the metal handrail of the nearby stairs, splashing in all directions.

The reflected light from the water dazzled Ellen's eyes.

She hadn't brought an umbrella.

During rush hour, the escalator grew crowded. Ellen glanced back. The escalator, meant for standing on the right and walking on the left, was packed with commuters. The left side was impassable, and even she stood on the walking side, unable to move down.

As the escalator neared the open air, where the rain awaited, people around her opened their umbrellas. The person beside her, also without one, muttered something in frustration.

Ellen felt helpless. The rain was heavy enough to guarantee a cold if she got wet.

Between health and pride, she chose health.

From the perspective of those behind her, a ponytail-wearing pretty woman stepped down one escalator step, slipping under the umbrella of the handsome man to her right. The man instinctively wrapped an arm around her shoulder, pulling her close.

The rain pounded the umbrella above, as if taunting Ellen, "Come out, I swear you won't catch a cold."

The man's hand lingered on her shoulder.

Ellen shifted awkwardly, glancing up. It was the guy from the seat next to her.

He looked decent, but what if he was a creep trying to take advantage?

Sensing her discomfort, Rylan Winchester loosened his grip, switching the umbrella to his left hand. He spoke softly over her head, "I was worried you'd fall."

His voice, though quiet, cut through the sound of rain hitting the umbrella, reaching Ellen's ears.

Embarrassed by her suspicious thoughts, Ellen straightened up, keeping a slight distance. "Thanks."

Rylan didn't respond.

At street level, Ellen remembered something. "Hey, which way are you headed?"

She hoped they were going the same way. She wasn't bold enough to borrow another stranger's umbrella that morning.

"West."

"What a coincidence, me too."

Rylan gave a soft "mm." Ellen took it as permission to share his umbrella.

Two strangers under one umbrella walked in silence, the situation slightly awkward.

At her office building, Ellen broke the quiet. "I'm here. Thanks for the umbrella."

Rylan, a head taller than Ellen, had a soaked right shoulder and backpack from shielding her.

A simple thank-you felt inadequate to Ellen. After a moment's thought, she added, "Let me add you on WhatsApp. I'll treat you to dinner sometime."

Rylan looked at her. Ellen's face showed genuine guilt, her eyes clear. When their gazes met, she blinked awkwardly.

He lowered his eyes and pulled out his phone.

Ellen smiled politely, scanned his QR code, entered her name, and sent a friend request.

Seconds later, a notification popped up, Rylan and her were WhatsApp friends now.

"All right, thank you so much. I'm heading up now. See you."

"See you."

Ellen turned and entered the building, unaware that the man in the rain walked back the way he came.

Ellen worked at a social enterprise. The pay wasn't high, but the job was stable, the workload light, and the hours regular, making it a top choice for many parents seeking a daughter-in-law. But alone in the city, with no family and a small social circle, Ellen rarely met new people outside work and had no prospects for a boyfriend.

Annoyed by her parents' nagging, Ellen visited a matchmaking corner at a park. After wandering around, she didn't dare post her printed matchmaking profile.

First, she felt inferior. Even 25-year-olds were dismissed as too old by the older folks there.

Second, she felt it was beneath her, like being a vegetable picked over at a market.

Ellen had been single for years partly because she wasn't outgoing. She disliked initiating conversations and, frankly, was socially anxious.

Even when she met someone who made her heart race, she wouldn't make a move. Her mind might run wild with fantasies, but her face remained impassive.

She stayed in her own little world.

So, despite adding Rylan on social media, Ellen sent no messages. Their chat stayed at the friend verification stage.

She didn't know what to say.

Near the end of the workday, her inner voice started chattering.

"Hi, I'm the one who borrowed your umbrella today."

"Hey, are you free tonight?"

"So… what kind of food do you like?"

After some thought, Ellen realized she didn't know his name or how to address him.

Handsome? Too flirty.

Dear? No, she wasn't customer service.

Her coworker at the next desk noticed her odd behavior and tapped the cubicle glass. "Ellen, what's wrong? You look down."

Ellen tilted her head, "That obvious?"

The girl replied, "Of course!"

"Well, I'm fighting."

"What?"

"I'm fighting with the voice in my head."

Her coworker fell silent.