The city is quiet at dusk. The kind of hush that settles only when the waves are gentle and the streetlights flicker on one by one, casting long shadows across the pavement. I’m walking back from the grocery store, arms heavy with bags, when I see them—barefoot on the curb, staring at the sky like it’s about to speak.

They turn. Our eyes meet. And for a second, the world stops.

'You live here?' they ask, voice low, like we’re sharing a secret.

I nod. 'For now. Just visiting.'

'Same,' they say, stepping closer. 'But I think I was meant to be here. Right now. With you.'

My breath catches. This shouldn’t feel so heavy. So right.

They smile—soft, uncertain. 'Walk with me?'

The bags dig into my palms. My heart pounds. This is insane.

But I say yes.