If it rains on your wedding day, it’s good luck for a smooth and prosperous marriage

Published on

in

Setting:
A cozy café in Melbourne. It’s raining outside, the kind of drizzle that makes people nostalgic and chatty.


Liam: (sipping his flat white) Well, there you go, Mia — proof from the universe itself. It’s raining, and you said your cousin’s getting married today. That means they’re going to have an amazing marriage!

Mia: (laughs) Oh, not this again. You actually believe rain brings good luck on a wedding day?

Liam: Of course I do! It’s tradition. Rain on a wedding day means cleansing, renewal, and fertility. Basically, nature’s blessing.

Mia: Or… it means the weather bureau’s forecast was accurate.

Liam: You’re such a skeptic! Come on, think about it — water washes away the old and makes way for the new. Symbolically, that’s beautiful. Don’t ruin it with your meteorological logic.

Mia: Beautiful, yes. But not evidence-based. If rain truly guaranteed a happy marriage, the divorce rate in tropical countries would be zero.

Liam: (chuckles) Okay, that’s fair. But traditions exist for a reason. My aunt swears her marriage has lasted thirty years because it poured on her wedding day.

Mia: Maybe it lasted because she married someone patient enough to sit through a monsoon in a tuxedo.

Liam: (grinning) You always have a comeback. But seriously, isn’t it comforting to believe the universe sends signs? Weddings are stressful — a little superstition adds charm.

Mia: I get that. It’s romantic in a poetic way. But don’t you think it also lets people ignore reality? Like, if things go wrong in marriage, do we blame the weather report for not being wet enough?

Liam: Hey, don’t overanalyze my symbolism. I’m saying it’s good energy. Rain cools things down, and couples start their life with freshness. You can’t argue against that vibe.

Mia: Oh, I can. Rain also brings mud, slippery roads, ruined makeup, and soggy suits. I went to a wedding once where the bride’s dress soaked up so much water she could barely move. No amount of “blessing” saved that dance floor.

Liam: (laughs loudly) Okay, that’s tragic. But see — they’ll remember it forever. A dry wedding is forgettable; a rainy one becomes a story.

Mia: So your theory is: the worse the weather, the better the marriage? What if it hails? Eternal bliss?

Liam: Now you’re just mocking tradition!

Mia: Not mocking — just… testing your superstition’s boundaries.

Liam: Fine. I admit, maybe it’s not scientifically true. But it gives people hope. And sometimes, hope matters more than hard data.

Mia: Fair point. Hope does matter. But for me, I’d rather bet on communication and trust than cloud patterns.

Liam: You’d make a terrible wedding planner, Mia. You’d hand couples umbrellas and reality checks.

Mia: Exactly. “Congratulations! Here’s your raincoat and a reminder to schedule couples’ therapy.”

Liam: (laughs) I’d still hire you. You’d keep things grounded. I’ll handle the good luck charms; you handle the logic.

Mia: Deal. Just promise me one thing — if it rains on your wedding day, don’t call me and say the universe approved.

Liam: Oh, I absolutely will. And you’ll be the one holding my umbrella of destiny.

(They both laugh as thunder rumbles outside, the rain continuing to fall — poetic or not.)

Tell Us What You Think