It had been raining for three days and three nights without stopping. My whole neighborhood was submerged in water. This year the water was higher than usual, flowing fast and freezing cold. My husband and I, two old people in our seventies, could only cling to the tiny attic, hugging each other and waiting for rescue.

“Ma’am, just hang on a little longer, they’ll probably come in tomorrow.”
He still spoke in his usual reassuring voice, trembling but still trying to smile. I believed him. For decades, whether poor or miserable, as long as he said “it’ll be okay”, my heart was at peace.

But the water rose too quickly. The rice ran out, the electricity went out, and the flashlight ran out of battery. He was getting weaker and coughing. I tried to help him up, put on a raincoat, and kept muttering,
“Dude, hang in there, someone will rescue you tomorrow…”

That night, the wind howled like someone was screaming. He lay still, holding my hand.
“Woman… I’m so tired, but don’t be afraid. Tomorrow morning… someone will probably come.”
Then he passed out. I shook him and called him again. He didn’t answer.

I hugged him and sobbed:
“Grandpa, you said you would only stay with me for today… why did you leave me here in the middle of the water like this…”

I sat there, holding his body, which was gradually getting cold, the water rose to my knees, then to my chest, then almost to the roof. I wasn’t afraid of dying, I was just afraid of him being alone.

The next morning, the rescue boat finally arrived. They pulled me up, shivering, still clutching the blanket that covered my grandfather. One of the rescuers said, trembling,
“Grandma… let us take him with us.”

I nodded, my eyes filling with tears. But when they opened the blanket… it was empty. Just my old jacket and the yellowed wedding photo stuck to my chest.

I stammered:
“My grandfather… he was just lying here… I heard him say…”

The lifeguard bowed his head, his voice hoarse:
“Ma’am… yesterday our team rescued a man floating near the riverbank, in his hand he was still holding this wedding photo that looks exactly like yours… we didn’t have time to tell you the news, we were going to tell you this morning but…”

I was stunned.
It turned out… last night, when the tide rose, he had left my hand to swim for help — to come back and save me.
Only… he didn’t make it back in time.

I burst into tears, hugged the photo to my chest, and sobbed,
“Sir… so you kept your promise… you went ahead to bring people to save me, right?”

The rain still falls, the water still surges, and I – the silver-haired woman, still sits there, in the middle of the flooded riverbank, whispering to the wind:
“You’re gone… but I know, you’re still rowing somewhere, waiting for me to cross…”