That evening, the sky over the city was dimming, the first stars blinking awake, when her life came across his for the first time.
Elena hadn't meant to stop at the little corner bookstore. She told herself she was only stepping in to escape the drizzle, but the truth was different. Something about the warm glow of its windows and the quiet promise of stories had pulled her inside. She wandered down an aisle of poetry, fingertips trailing over spines, when someone turned the corner too quickly.
There was the sudden thud of books hitting the floor.
"Oh sorry!" a voice said, low and hurried.
Elena dropped to her knees at the same time he did, both of them reaching for the scattered volumes. Their hands brushed over the same copy of The Stars and Their Stories. She looked up, and for a heartbeat, forgot what she was doing.
He wasn't striking in an obvious way, but his presence carried weight, a subtle gravity that pulled her attention. His dark hair was damp from the rain, a strand clinging stubbornly to his forehead. And his eyes—steady, unreadable, yet curious—held her there longer than they should have.
"It's fine," she managed, though her pulse betrayed her calm tone. Sliding the book toward him, she added, "I think this is yours."
A smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. "You take it. I wasn't even sure why I picked it up."
"Because it was about stars," Elena said softly, before she realized she'd spoken aloud.
His smile deepened, as though she'd uncovered a hidden truth. "Maybe so."
Outside, the rain thickened, tapping insistently against the windows. Neither of them moved to leave. Instead, they remained crouched among the fallen books, silence draping over them—not heavy, but light, almost suspended, as if the world itself held its breath.
At last, he rose and offered her a hand. "I'm Adrian," he said.
Her hand slipped into his, warm despite the cold lingering in the air. "Elena."
He repeated her name quietly, like testing its shape on his tongue, then glanced toward the rain streaked glass. "Looks like we're stuck here for a while."
She smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair from her cheek. "There are worse places to be trapped."
They found a pair of armchairs by the window, carrying the rescued books with them. The bookstore was hushed, the only sounds the patter of rain and the occasional creak of wooden shelves settling into the night. Elena curled into her chair, clutching the star book almost defensively, though she wasn't sure why.
"So," Adrian said after a moment, "do you often wander into bookstores during storms, or is this a rare occurrence?"
"Depends," she replied. "If it looks welcoming enough, I'll give in. I've always felt safer around books than anywhere else."
He tilted his head, as though considering her words. "Safe… or at home?"
Her lips curved slightly. "Maybe both."
Something softened in his gaze, though he didn't press further. Instead, he leaned back, stretching his legs slightly, as though settling into a space he hadn't realized he'd needed. Elena studied him quietly—the faint weariness in his shoulders, the way his hand tapped lightly against the armrest, as though carrying unspoken restlessness.
The rain showed no sign of letting up, drumming harder against the panes. Yet neither seemed eager for the storm to pass.
Adrian nodded toward the book in her lap. "Are you a believer in them? Stars, I mean."
Elena's fingers traced the embossed title before she answered. "Believer might not be the word. But I like the idea that somewhere above us, there are patterns we're all connected to. That our stories might already be written in light."
He smiled faintly, eyes following the raindrops as they raced down the glass. "That's… poetic."
She shrugged, feigning nonchalance, though her heart beat a little faster. "Or maybe just foolish."
"I don't think so," Adrian said, his voice low but certain. "Some things deserve to be believed in."
The quiet stretched again, but this time it was warm, not awkward. Two strangers in a forgotten corner of the city, waiting out the rain with stories and stars between them.
For reasons Elena couldn't yet explain, she hoped the storm would last just a little longer.