手机又震动了一声，这次是老陈发来的语音。我点开，里面只有雨声和隐约的喘息声，听不清具体说了啥，但那语气肯定是有事。心一下子就沉了下去。

我握着手机，手指都在发抖。 Rain was pouring outside, drumming against the windowpane like a thousand tiny fists. I could hear it all, the heavy rain, the wind howling, the occasional thunder crackling in the distance. It was the same rain that had blurred everything five years ago, that had washed away all the sweetness and light.

I swallowed hard, pressing the play button. The voice came through, muffled by the rain, but the urgency was unmistakable. It was his voice, though distorted by the static and the rain. He sounded breathless, like he had been running or struggling with something.

"Hey," I whispered, though only I could hear it. "What's wrong?"

The voice on the recording didn't answer. Instead, it was filled with rustling sounds, like leaves being blown around in a storm. Then, suddenly, the sound of a door creaking open and the voice of a woman saying something unintelligible before the recording cut out.