Morasurana — Maha Warusawe

He looked down at his hand. The gold ring he had placed on her finger that day no longer felt warm; the luster he remembered was gone because she was no longer there to wear it.

Mora Surana Maha Warusawe ( HQ ) මොර සූරන මහ - Smule Morasurana Maha Warusawe

Siri stood on the porch of his small wooden house, watching the water turn the garden paths into muddy rivers. Every time it rained like this, he was transported back to that day years ago. She had been standing right there, her hair damp and her laugh competing with the thunder. They had watched the river swell from the bamboo grove, believing their world was as eternal as the flowing water. He looked down at his hand