Irainature -

"Why do you hide inside when the sky weeps?" Irainature asked, her voice a soft rumble like distant thunder.

Reluctantly, Leona stepped outside. At first, the cold drops made her shiver. But Irainature pointed to a small, withered fern by the roadside. "Look," she said. As the rain touched its curled leaves, they slowly unfurled, turning a vibrant, hopeful green.

Leona sighed. "Because the rain makes everything dull. It traps me indoors. It feels like the world is crying." Irainature

One afternoon, as dark clouds gathered over the mountains, an old woman with eyes like mossy stones appeared at Leona’s door. Her name was Irainature.

And the rain no longer felt like sadness. It felt like the world watering its own garden—and her heart, at last, learned to bloom in every storm. "Why do you hide inside when the sky weeps

Irainature touched Leona’s shoulder. "You cannot change the weather, but you can change how you listen to it. The rain is not the opposite of sunshine. It is sunshine in another form—working quietly underground, filling wells, painting rainbows for later."

Leona turned to thank Irainature, but the old woman had vanished. In her place stood a single blue wildflower, swaying gently, still wet with rain. But Irainature pointed to a small, withered fern

From that day on, whenever Leona heard the first drops on her roof, she didn’t pull the curtains closed. She opened her window, breathed in the sweet, wet air, and whispered, "Thank you, Irainature."

"Rain isn't sadness," Irainature explained. "It is patience. It falls so the thirsty can drink."