The next morning, Ava stood in front of her mirror longer than usual. Her hair framed her face in soft waves, and she had chosen her favorite emerald blouse—the one that brought out the gold flecks in her eyes. It wasn't a conscious effort, she told herself. Just a good outfit for a cloudy Thursday.
But deep down, she was waiting. Hoping.
Julian hadn't said when he'd return, or if he really would. She wasn't even sure why his presence lingered so heavily in her thoughts. He'd spoken so little, offered no real details. But something about the way he looked at her—like she wasn't invisible—had awakened a part of her that had been sleeping for far too long.
The café was busier today, buzzing with morning chatter, clinking cups, and the occasional burst of laughter. She chose the same seat, pretending it was coincidence. Her laptop sat open in front of her, but the blinking cursor mocked her lack of focus.
It was almost noon when she finally gave up. She closed the laptop, cradled her coffee, and told herself it had only been one night. One stranger. One storm.
Then she heard it.
The soft chime of the café door.
She didn't look up right away. She didn't want to give herself away—didn't want the hope in her chest to crack open too wide. But then she caught a shadow across her table, and a low voice that sent a ripple through her chest.
"Told you you'd be here."
Ava looked up. There he was—less wet, but no less intense. Julian wore a dark sweater today, the sleeves pushed up to his elbows, revealing a small, thin scar just above his right wrist. It looked old. Faint. A faded mark that didn't belong to someone ordinary.
"You make a habit of being mysterious?" she asked, setting her cup down.
"You make a habit of letting strange men sit with you?"
"Only in the rain," she said.
He smiled—this time more fully—and sat across from her without asking.
There was a tension between them now, not uncomfortable, but tangible. Something like a thread stretched too tight between two hands.
"Where were you walking to last night?" she asked.
Julian looked down at his hands, flexing them like he was grounding himself. "Nowhere. I've been between places lately. Needed to disappear for a while."
Ava studied him. "Disappearing isn't as easy as people think."
"Isn't it?" he asked, meeting her gaze again. "Some people never even notice you're gone."
She looked down, unsure why his words cut so close to her own thoughts. "What are you running from?"
He didn't answer right away. Instead, he reached for his cup, took a long sip, then placed it down gently.
"I made a mistake. A big one. And it cost me everything."
The café noise blurred into background hum. Ava leaned in slightly, not out of curiosity, but out of the pull—like his pain was familiar.
"What kind of mistake?" she asked.
His jaw tightened. "The kind that leaves you wondering if you deserve to start over."
Ava was silent. Then, softly, she said, "Everyone deserves a second chance."
Julian looked at her, and for the first time, something raw slipped through his careful calm. Vulnerability.
"What about you?" he asked. "What are you running from?"
Ava gave a soft, bitter laugh. "I'm not running. I'm just… existing."
"And is that enough for you?"
No one had ever asked her that. Not really. And she didn't have an answer.
They stayed like that for a long time—two broken souls quietly orbiting each other, unsure of whether to move closer or pull away.
When they left the café, the sky had cleared. The rain had stopped, but something else had started.
Something neither of them could name yet.
Something that felt dangerously like fate.