The rose of rain

 The Canvas of Our Midnight Sky .        

The world was swallowed by a silent, blue light. Everyone was sleeping, everyone but Luna . While the moon poured its milk-white glow through her window, she was awake, chasing its reflection on her canvas. Her room was a mess of charcoal sketches and half-finished dreams, but here, now, the only sound was the soft scratch of her pencil giving form to the cratered face in the sky. She was not just drawing the moon; she was trying to capture its lonely song, a melody she felt humming in her own bones. And as her hand moved, she didn't notice a dark shadow coming from his window. That shadow looks like a bird but when Luna sees that shadow she sees a man with wings . Luna opened the window but lost that

 shadow .  

Luna looks around the window but she never finds it . The next day she goes searching for that wing man at night . Luna comes to her nearest forest . Luna had a camera and she wanted to take a picture of a wing man and create a drawing of that wing man . at some hour of finding She loses hope and she says , “yesterday it's just my illusion that in the real world no one had a wing.” but when luna  was going at home she looks a man who was removing his shirt and he open

His wings . and she hid behind the tree and she took her camera and started clicking the picture of the wing man . That wing man didn't see her . but Luna accidentally steps on a broken branch of a tree and that makes a sound . wing man hear that sound and luna start running to wards the her  house 

Because the wing man was cheesing her .  Sometime later Luna faints on the ground and when she sees the wing man she shouts and she feels unconscious. Luna woke up. She  was not in the forest. She was in a soft bed of moss and leaves inside a small, hidden cave. The man with wings was there, watching her.

He was not a monster. His eyes were kind and sad. His name was Leo. He was the last of his kind, a being from a story long forgotten. He hid in the forest to stay safe from a world that would fear him.

He told Luna his secret. He was drawn to her window because he felt her loneliness. It was a feeling he knew very well. He saw her trying to capture the moon's song, and it called to him.

Luna was not scared anymore. She showed him the pictures she took. She told him about her art. For the first time, she felt someone truly understood her. Leo felt the same. They met in the forest every night, under the canvas of the midnight sky. He would fly with her in his arms, showing her the world from the clouds. She would draw him, not as a monster, but as the beautiful, lonely soul he was.

It was a secret, magical love. But such a love is often too fragile for this world.

One night, a group of men from the town saw them. They saw Leo’s wings and were filled with fear and anger. They thought he was a demon who had kidnapped Luna. They chased them into the forest with bright lights and loud noises.

Leo held Luna tight. "They will never understand us," he whispered. He flew them high up to the top of the tallest cliff, away from the chasing men.

But the men followed. One man, scared and confused, threw a rock. It hit Leo hard on the head. He stumbled, his grip on Luna loosening.

They were at the edge of the cliff. Leo was hurt. He knew he could not fly away. He looked at Luna. In that last moment, their eyes met. His gaze held everything he could not say—all their shared dreams, his fear for her, and a deep, heartbreaking goodbye.

"I cannot let them capture me," he said, his voice soft. "And I cannot let them hurt you because of me."

"Finish our canvas," he whispered.

Then, before the men could reach them, Leo spread his magnificent wings and fell backwards from the cliff. He did not fly. He let himself fall, his eyes locked on Luna's until he disappeared into the darkness and mist below.

The men found Luna alone, crying at the edge of the cliff. They never found Leo's body. They decided it was all just a strange dream.

But Luna knew the truth. She went back to her room, her heart shattered. She took out her biggest canvas. She did not draw the moon anymore. She used her charcoal and paints to draw him. She drew Leo against their midnight sky, his wings spread wide, forever free. But most of all, she drew his eyes, exactly as they were in their final moment together.

It was her greatest masterpiece. It was not a picture of a monster or a myth. It was a portrait of her lost love, a tragic and beautiful secret forever kept on her canvas. And every night, she would look at the moon and remember the silent song she shared with the boy who fell from the sky.

The end …..