She didn't expect to see him again. Not so soon. Not like this.
It was a rainy Tuesday, the kind that made the city feel like a memory. She ducked into the campus café, soaked and shivering, clutching her sketchpad like a shield. The place was packed, every table taken—except one. The corner seat by the window. And he was there.
Moonboy.
He looked up from his laptop, earbuds dangling, and smiled. That same quiet smile. Like he'd been waiting.
"Looks like you need coffee more than I do," he said, gesturing to the empty seat across from him.
She hesitated. Then sat. Because fate doesn't knock twice.
They didn't talk much. Just sipped, scribbled, and shared silence. But it wasn't awkward. It was soft. Like the rain outside. Like the warmth between strangers who weren't strangers anymore.
He asked about her sketches. She asked about his playlist. They traded names, finally. Hers was Elia. His was Kael.
And just before she left, he said, "Same time tomorrow?"
She nodded, heart thudding like a drum in a quiet room.
It became a ritual. Rain or shine, they met. Coffee. Sketches. Music. Laughter. No labels. No promises. Just moments.
But moments have a way of turning into memories. And memories have a way of hurting when they're all you have left.