Aria didn't plan to see him that day.
If you asked her later, she would swear it was coincidence. That fate had nothing to do with it. That the universe didn't suddenly wake up and decide to toy with her like a bored child shaking a snow globe.
She had a list.
Groceries. Laundry detergent. A new notebook because starting over felt easier when written in clean pages. Small, normal things that built the illusion of control.
She dressed simply. Jeans. Black top. Hair pulled into a low knot. No perfume.
Armor disguised as ordinary.
The grocery store was quiet in that late-afternoon way where the air-conditioning hummed louder than conversations. Fluorescent lights buzzed overhead, flattening everything into something almost unreal.
She liked it like that.
No romance. No memories.
Just aisles and expiration dates.
Aria moved through the store with practiced efficiency, grabbing things without overthinking. Apples. Bread. Coffee.
She paused at the tea aisle.
