It happened again.
Liora didn't mean to notice it at first.
It was easy to ignore once. Twice, even.
But not three times.
The first was the crosswalk. The second was the bus stop.
The third—
"…You again?"
She stood in the doorway of a small café, blinking in surprise.
Adrian Vale looked up from where he sat near the window, a cup of coffee resting untouched in front of him. There was a brief pause, like he hadn't expected to be seen so soon, and then he smiled.
"…Starting to think you're following me."
Liora let out a quiet laugh, stepping inside. "I was about to say the same thing."
The bell above the door chimed softly behind her. She glanced around the café as if expecting to find some explanation hidden somewhere between the tables, but everything looked normal.
Too normal.
"…You come here often?" she asked, stopping near his table.
"Sometimes," Adrian said. "It's quiet."
"That's exactly why I come here," she said, then hesitated. "…Well. Not all the time. Just—sometimes."
"…Same," he replied.
Another pause settled between them, but it wasn't uncomfortable. Just uncertain, like both of them were trying to decide what this was supposed to be.
"…Do you mind?" she asked, gesturing to the empty chair across from him.
He should have said no.
He didn't.
"Go ahead."
Liora sat down.
Up close, he looked the same as always—calm, composed, like nothing in the world could rush him.
"…So," she said, folding her hands lightly, "either this is a really weird coincidence…"
"Or?" he prompted.
"…Or something's going on."
A flicker passed through his eyes—gone before she could catch it.
"…You think something's going on?" he asked.
Liora shrugged. "I don't know. It just feels like I keep running into you at the exact moment I'm about to—"
She stopped.
"…About to what?" he asked.
"…Nothing."
Adrian didn't push. He didn't ask again. And somehow, that made her trust him more.
"…You always show up at the right time," she said instead.
He stilled, just slightly.
"…Do I?"
"Yeah," she said. "It's weird."
"…Lucky timing," he replied.
Too simple.
Liora studied him for a moment. "…Maybe."
But she didn't sound convinced.
They stayed longer than either of them planned.
Talking.
Not about anything important—just small things. Work. Places nearby.
But every now and then, she would catch him looking at her.
Not casually.
Not absentmindedly.
But like he was making sure she was still there.
Still breathing.
Still real.
It should have made her uncomfortable.
It didn't.
When they finally stood to leave, Liora hesitated near the door.
"…See you around?" she asked, half-joking.
Adrian paused.
Just long enough for it to matter.
"…Probably," he said.
And for some reason, that felt less like a guess—
And more like a certainty.
---
Two days later, Liora was walking down the street, distracted.
Her thoughts drifted back to the fire. The voice. The strange, persistent feeling that something wasn't right.
She didn't see the person rushing toward her until it was too late.
They slammed into her shoulder.
Hard.
She stumbled back, her foot catching against uneven pavement—
And for a split second—
She saw it.
The fall.
Her head hitting the ground.
The sharp crack—
A hand caught her.
Steady.
Firm.
"…Careful."
Her breath hitched as the world snapped back into place.
Adrian stood in front of her.
Of course he did.
"…Okay," she said, still catching her breath. "This is getting ridiculous."
He let go as soon as she steadied herself. "You alright?"
"…Yeah," she said slowly. "I just—"
Her eyes locked onto his.
"…You were there again."
A pause.
"…I was nearby," he said.
"That's not what I mean."
Another pause.
"…Then what do you mean?"
Liora hesitated. "…It's like you show up before something bad happens."
Silence followed.
Not awkward.
Heavy.
Adrian looked at her—really looked this time.
"…And does something bad happen?" he asked.
"…No," she admitted.
"…Then maybe I'm just good luck."
He said it lightly.
But something about it didn't feel like a joke.
Liora let out a small breath. "…You're not normal."
The words slipped out before she could soften them.
Adrian didn't react immediately.
"…Neither are you," he said quietly.
That made her pause.
"…What's that supposed to mean?"
"…Nothing," he said.
But it didn't feel like nothing.
---
By the fifth time, she stopped pretending it was coincidence.
They were sitting on a bench in the park.
Together.
Like it was normal.
Like it had always been normal.
"…You know," Liora said, glancing at him, "most people would think this is weird."
"Probably," Adrian said.
"And yet you don't seem bothered."
"…Should I be?"
She huffed out a quiet laugh. "…I don't know. Maybe a little."
A breeze passed through the trees.
Soft. Steady.
For a moment, everything felt calm.
Real.
"…Does it bother you?" he asked.
Liora thought about it.
It should have.
Running into the same person over and over again.
Feeling like something was off.
Like the world wasn't behaving the way it should.
But instead—
"…No," she said quietly.
It didn't.
And that scared her more than anything.
Because it meant some part of her trusted him.
Without knowing why.
"…That's dangerous," she added under her breath.
Adrian's gaze shifted slightly. "…Trust?"
"…Yeah."
Another pause.
"…Only if it's misplaced," he said.
Liora glanced at him. "…And is it?"
Silence.
For a moment—
Just a moment—
Something in his expression changed.
Something tired.
Something heavy.
Something that didn't belong to someone living a normal life.
"…No," he said.
Too quickly.
Too certain.
And yet—
She believed him.
---
That night, Liora stood by her window, staring out at the quiet street below.
"…This isn't normal."
No.
It wasn't.
And yet—
She found herself thinking about him.
The way he spoke.
The way he looked at her.
The way he always seemed to be there—
Right before something went wrong.
"…Adrian."
The name felt natural on her tongue.
Too natural.
Her chest tightened.
"…Why does it feel like I've known you longer than I should?"
No answer came.
Only silence.
---
Far beyond the world, something shifted.
Not visible.
Not tangible.
But real.
And somewhere beyond her awareness, every version of her that had fallen, slipped, broken, or died in those moments—
Was gone.
Replaced.
By this one.
The one sitting on a bench.
Laughing.
Safe.
And the truth remained, unseen and absolute—
There was never a world where he wasn't there.
---