Elena hadn't planned to be out that evening. She preferred her quiet nights—tea, her notebook, the comfort of routine. But her friend Clara had convinced her to stop by the small art exhibit downtown, promising it would "wake her spirit." Elena didn't believe in such things, but she went anyway, if only to avoid another lonely Saturday night.
The gallery was small but alive with canvases lined across the walls. She drifted between the paintings, more interested in watching people than art. That was when she heard it the unmistakable click of a camera shutter.
She turned. And there he was. It was Adrian.
He stood near a sculpture bathed in soft light, his camera raised, his focus intent. For a moment, she only watched him. The way his brow furrowed slightly as he adjusted the frame, the way he leaned in as though coaxing the art into revealing its secrets. He looked like he belonged here, as much a part of the exhibit as the pieces on display.
When he finally lowered the camera, their eyes met. Recognition lit in his gaze, followed quickly by something softer, warmer. He made his way toward her, the crowd seeming to part without him trying.
"I was beginning to wonder if fate was finished with us," he said and smiled.
Elena smiled too.
They fell into step together, wandering slowly past the paintings. The conversation slipped into place as easily as it had in the cafe, weaving from trivial observations to things that felt heavier beneath the surface.
"Do you come to places like this often?" Adrian asked.
"Not really," Elena admitted. "I usually prefer books to paintings. Words feel safer than colors."
He glanced at her, studying her as though she were another work of art. "Maybe. But sometimes colors say what words can't."
The words lingered between them, stirring something she couldn't quite name.
Later, they stepped outside, the cool evening air brushing against them. The city lights flickered like distant stars, the sound of traffic humming in the distance. For a moment, neither spoke. They simply stood there at the edge of the gallery's glow, watching the world pass them by.
Elena felt the silence stretch, but it wasn't uncomfortable it was charged, humming like a live wire. The kind of silence that held a thousand unspoken words. She became aware of the way her hand brushed close to his, of the warmth radiating between them in the chill of the night.
Adrian broke it first, his voice low. "Do you feel it too?"
Her breath caught. "Feel what?"
He didn't answer, not directly. His gaze lingered on hers, steady, searching, as though trying to read the truth she was too afraid to speak aloud. The space between them felt fragile, alive, like stepping too close might ignite something neither of them was ready for.
Elena's heart pounded, yet she didn't step back. "Maybe," she whispered.
Adrian's smile was small, knowing. He didn't push further, but he didn't need to. The spark was already there, flickering quietly in the night air, undeniable no matter how carefully they tried to guard it.
For the first time in a long time, Elena felt the pull of something bigger than coincidence. Something that didn't need words to explain itself.
Unspoken, but impossible to ignore.
Sparks.