The night air was crisp, carrying with it the faint scent of jasmine and the distant hum of the city. Lily wrapped her cardigan tighter around her shoulders, the soft fabric barely warding off the chill. She had always loved the quiet of late nights, when the world seemed to slow down, when the streets emptied, and only the moon remained a faithful witness. Tonight, however, the stillness felt different—charged, almost expectant.
She walked along the cobblestone path that bordered the small, neglected park, her heels clicking softly against the stones. Shadows stretched long beneath the dim lampposts, twisting and dancing in a rhythm she could not decipher. Lily's thoughts wandered as she wandered, memories of past heartbreaks brushing against her mind like unwelcome ghosts. She tried to shake them off, but her chest tightened nonetheless.
And then she saw him.
Ethan was leaning casually against the wrought-iron gate of the park, his hands stuffed into the pockets of his jacket. The moonlight caught the sharp line of his jaw, the way his dark hair fell just slightly over his forehead, and Lily's breath hitched. He looked impossibly calm, yet there was something magnetic about him—something that made her forget the chill, forget the shadows, forget everything except him.
"Lily," he said softly, his voice carrying just enough warmth to make her heart flutter.
She stopped in her tracks, startled that he knew her name, though she had never seen him before in her life. Yet, there was an undeniable familiarity in his gaze, as if he had been waiting for her all along.
"Ethan," she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. Her fingers toyed nervously with the hem of her cardigan. "Do we… know each other?"
He smiled, a slow, almost teasing curl of his lips. "Not yet. But I think we're supposed to."
The moon rose higher, casting a silver glow over the park, illuminating the faint outlines of flowers that had long forgotten to bloom. Lily took a tentative step closer, curiosity pulling her forward despite the strange flutter in her chest.
"I don't usually come here," she admitted, her eyes meeting his. "I prefer the library. Or cafés. Places where people aren't lurking in the shadows."
Ethan chuckled, a low, pleasant sound that seemed to resonate with the very air around them. "I prefer the shadows," he said. "They hide things… or maybe they reveal them, depending on who's looking."
There was a tension in the way he looked at her, a silent question that made her pulse quicken. Lily wanted to turn and run, to leave the park and escape the pull she felt toward this mysterious stranger, yet something held her in place—an invisible thread that tightened with each passing second.
"Then maybe the shadows brought me to the right place," she said finally, her lips curving into a hesitant smile.
Ethan's eyes softened, and he took a small step toward her, careful, deliberate, as though every movement mattered. "Or maybe it's not the shadows at all," he whispered. "Maybe it's the moon."
The words hung between them, heavy and electric. Lily felt a warmth spread through her, an unfamiliar yet comforting sensation. For the first time in a long while, the past seemed distant, irrelevant. For the first time in a long while, the night didn't feel lonely.
And as they stood there, beneath the silver glow of the moon, something unspoken passed between them—an acknowledgment of possibilities, of new beginnings, of something that neither time nor fear could diminish.
For Lily, the shadows no longer held fear. They held promise.
And Ethan… he held her attention, entirely.