The storm was very loud.
Isla hid under her blanket while the thunder rolled and the rain hammered the windows.
Then — quiet.
Just like that, everything stopped.
Isla crept to the window. The garden was soaking, every leaf dripping, every puddle shivering with the last drops.
And across the whole sky, from one end to the other, was a rainbow. A double rainbow — two of them, stacked, colours so bright they looked painted on.
Isla pressed her nose to the glass.
The sun came out from behind the last cloud and lit everything up — wet grass glittering, puddles flashing silver, the rainbow blazing.
She forgot she had been frightened at all.
Later, Mum explained about raindrops and light and angles. Isla listened carefully.
But some part of her still believed the rainbow was the sky's way of saying sorry.