The Girl Who Only Called Me When It Rained

It always happened when the weather got bad.

Every time the sky turned grey, every time rain hit the pavement, every time thunder rolled in… my phone would light up with her name.

Liana.

She never called me when she was happy.
She never called me when she was busy, or when life was going well.
Only when she was sad, lonely, or bored.

And stupidly — embarrassingly — I loved it.

I became addicted to the way she said my name when she needed me.
Soft. Desperate. Like I was the only one who could comfort her.

Last night was the worst example.

Around 11:42 PM, during a thunderstorm, I looked at my phone and thought:

She’s going to call.

I told myself if she didn’t, I’d finally stop hoping.
I’d walk away.
I’d break this cycle.

But at 11:47 PM…

She called.

My heart jumped. My breath actually caught.
Like a puppy hearing its owner come home.

I answered on the first ring.

She sniffled, said her power went out, said she felt unsafe, said she needed someone to talk to.

And there I was, sitting at the edge of my bed, laptop still open, work undone — listening to her vent about the guy she liked.
Some dude who “mixed signals” her, who “can’t commit,” who “keeps her guessing.”

Funny how she described him like a villain,
while I sat here like a hero…

…except I wasn’t one.

I was just the emotional umbrella she grabbed whenever her real world got wet.

Then she said it:

“I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

And that melted me.
It shouldn’t have — but it did.

But right after, she added:

“You’re like… the most reliable person in my life.
I wish I could find a guy like you.”

There it was.
The knife.
Delivered kindly, but still a knife.

Not you.
Just someone like you.

I wanted to ask:

“Why not me?”
But I didn’t. I never do.

Because I know the answer.

I’m the rain-call guy.
The midnight comfort friend.
The emotional safety net.

When the storm ended, at around 1:13 AM, she said:

“Okay, I’m good now. Thank you.
Good night!”

And just like the weather — she cleared up.
And I disappeared from her world again.

After the call ended, I stared at my phone for a long time.

I want to break this.
I want to stop letting her use me as her emotional shelter.
I want to stop answering every time it rains.

But the truth?

When that phone rings…
I still pick up.
I still hope.
I still fall.

And I still don’t know how to stop.