That morning when they met, the world seemed unusually gentle, as if it knew something extraordinary was about to begin. The air was crisp with the faint scent of rain lingering from the night before, the streets washed clean and glistening under the pale gold of the sunrise.

He hadn’t meant to notice them at first. They were just another passerby in a crowd of strangers. But there was something in the way they stood, framed by the early morning light spilling through the trees, that made him pause. They weren’t doing anything remarkable—just adjusting the strap of a bag, pushing back a stray lock of hair, glancing at the world with the quiet calm of someone who didn’t realize they were being watched.

It should have been an ordinary moment. Yet for him, it wasn’t. It felt as though the morning had been building toward this, arranging itself with deliberate precision: the hush of the streets, the soft chorus of sparrows overhead, the breeze that carried their laughter when they accidentally brushed shoulders.