~the rewritten destiny....
The hospital terrace was almost empty.
The city lights shimmered below. The rain had stopped, leaving the air cool and fragile.
Freya pushed the terrace door open.
Noah followed.
For a moment, neither of them spoke.
The wind moved gently through her hair. She hugged herself lightly.
"You didn't have to drag me away like that," she said finally.
"I didn't drag you."
"You practically did."
Silence.
He walked toward the edge of the terrace, stopping a few steps away from her.
"I don't like him," he said plainly.
Freya stared at him. "You don't even know him."
His jaw tightened. "I know enough."
She crossed her arms. "Which is?"
He didn't answer immediately.
Because the truth was—
He didn't know how he knew.
He just did.
The bracelet on her wrist glimmered faintly under the terrace light.
His eyes fell on it.
"You're still wearing it."
Freya glanced at it. "It's just a bracelet."
"It's not."
She frowned. "Then what is it?"
He opened his mouth—
And nothing came out.
Because he didn't remember.
But his chest hurt like he did.
Freya stepped closer.
"Why do you talk like we've met before?"
He let out a quiet breath.
"Maybe we have."
"That's not funny."
"I'm not joking."
She studied his face carefully.
"You act like you know something I don't."
"And you act like you're about to remember something," he replied.
That made her pause.
The wind grew slightly stronger.
"You know what's strange?" she said softly. "When I'm near you… I feel like I forgot something important."
His heartbeat shifted.
"Maybe you did."
She looked at him sharply. "Did what?"
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated.
"I don't know."
That was the most honest answer he had.
They both stood there — two people circling a truth neither could see.
Freya looked up at the sky.
"Do you believe in fate?"
The question caught him off guard.
"Yes."
"Then do you think fate repeats things?"
His voice lowered.
"Yes."
She looked back at him.
"Then what if this is just coincidence?"
He stepped closer — not aggressively this time.
Carefully.
"It doesn't feel like coincidence."
Her breath hitched slightly.
"Then what does it feel like?"
He hesitated.
Dangerously close to saying too much.
"Like I've already stood here before."
She swallowed.
"With me?"
He held her gaze.
"Yes."
Silence wrapped around them.
Below, the city moved unaware.
Above, the sky stayed still.
Freya laughed softly — nervous, unsure.
"That's impossible."
"Probably," he agreed.
But neither of them moved away.
After a moment, she spoke again.
"Did you send back Theo's flowers?"
He looked at her immediately.
"No."
There was no hesitation.
She searched his face.
"And if someone did?"
His expression hardened slightly.
"Then they had a reason."
"That's not an answer."
"It's enough."
She sighed.
"You're impossible."
"And you're stubborn."
A small smile almost formed between them.
Almost.
Then she looked away.
"Why did you really bring me here?"
He didn't answer right away.
Because the truth was simple.
He needed distance from Theo.
But he needed proximity to her.
"I wanted to talk," he said finally.
"About?"
He stepped closer again.
Not touching.
Just near.
"About not letting things repeat."
Her heart beat louder.
"And what exactly is repeating?"
His voice dropped to almost a whisper.
"You walking away."
The words felt heavier than he intended.
Freya stared at him.
"I just met you."
He nodded slowly.
"I know."
And that was the terrifying part.
Because it didn't feel like it.
The terrace door creaked slightly behind them as the wind pushed it.
For a brief second—
Freya felt like someone was watching.
But when she turned—
No one was there.
Far beyond sight—
Grace stood unseen.
And for the first time—
Even she looked uncertain.
Because clueless conversations were dangerous.
They built bonds before memories returned.
And bonds—
Could rewrite fate.