Sera, a sweet girl who had just moved to a small town where the rain seemed never-ending, often found herself sighing. She had never liked the rain, and yet fate had placed her in a place where it fell almost all year round. Ironic, she thought, pulling her thin jacket tighter whenever she stepped outside.
It had only been a few weeks since she started working at a small bakery in the town's shopping district. The warm, sweet scent of freshly baked bread greeted her every morning, but there was something else that always made her pause. Just across from the bakery stood a flower shop, vibrant and full of colors, like an oasis in the grayness of the rain.
Among all the shops that lined the street, it was that florist that always caught her eye. Each time she walked into the bakery, her gaze would instinctively drift toward it. And behind the glass window brimming with fresh flowers, she always saw a young man, smiling warmly as he served his customers. That smile… for some reason, felt so comforting, as if it had the power to push away the cold rain shadowing her days.
They had crossed paths more than once on the street, in front of the shops, even in a café they both happened to visit. Their eyes often met, just for a moment, before quickly looking away, pretending to be busy with something else. As though they were both too shy to admit there was something different in those brief exchanges.
Sera didn't understand. His face didn't feel unfamiliar, as if it had been tucked away faintly in the corners of a memory she could never reach. There was something in his eyes that made her chest tighten with a strange flutter, something that whispered they might have known each other long before this meeting.
Near the bakery, there was a well-known café Sera often visited before heading back to her rented home. Sometimes it was just to buy a cup of hot chocolate, other times simply to unwind and lose herself in a book.
That day, the rain had fallen again heavy, as always. Yet strangely, after weeks of living there, Sera had grown used to the scent of rain and the damp air it left behind.
The downpour had just eased, leaving behind a gentle drizzle still clinging to the earth, and streets that shimmered under the glow of city lights. After finishing her shift, Sera decided to head home while the rain was lighter. But her feet, as if with a mind of their own, carried her into her favorite quiet café. She brushed the dampness from her sleeves, ordered a cup of hot chocolate, and chose a corner table by the window.
Through the misted glass, the world outside looked blurred and distant. Yet her heart felt restless, as though it were waiting for something, or someone. She didn't know who, or what.
The bell above the café door chimed. A young man stepped inside, shaking the rain from his soft black hair. His eyes swept the room, then stopped hesitant—meeting Sera's gaze that was already on him.
Their eyes held.
Neither of them looked away.
It wasn't recognition. They had only seen each other in passing before. Yet in that quiet stillness, there was a strange familiarity, like a half-forgotten memory or a dream that lingers even after dawn has broken.
The man ordered a coffee, then, for no clear reason, chose the table nearest to Sera's.
She found herself glancing at him. Once, twice… and every time, her chest fluttered with something she couldn't explain. Something strange, but undeniable.
His jet-black hair, his warm brown skin lightly dusted with freckles, the sharp bridge of his nose framed by long, dark lashes. Sera couldn't help but look again, and again.
The café had shelves tucked between the tables, offering books for anyone to read. As fate would have it, Sera's hand brushed the edge of her book at the same moment the young man reached for one beside it. Both froze. Their eyes met again, this time closer. He gave a small, gentle smile, almost like an apology.
"Sorry," he murmured softly.
Sera quickly shook her head, but words slipped from her lips before she could stop them.
"It's fine. It's just… it doesn't feel like the first time."
He paused, then chuckled quietly, though his eyes still carried a trace of wonder.
"Strange… I was just thinking the same thing."
"I'm Liam," he said, extending his hand with gentle ease.
"Sera."
Their hands met, a simple introduction yet it felt like the beginning of something neither of them could quite name.
Their conversation flowed with surprising ease and light, unforced, almost as if the universe itself had gently conspired to bring them together. Though they were still strangers, it didn't feel like it. Each word seemed to bridge the distance between them, each smile unraveling the sense of unfamiliarity.
They laughed over small things, over stories that might have sounded ordinary to anyone else, yet in that moment, they felt special. There was a strange spark in the simplicity of it all, a warmth neither of them could explain. With every shared laugh and every quiet glance, something unspoken began to grow between them. It wasn't love, not yet, but it was a tenderness that made the world outside blur into silence.
The rain outside had long since softened into a quiet drizzle, tapping gently against the café windows. The city lights reflected on the wet pavement, shimmering like scattered stars. Yet for Sera and Liam, the world seemed to have narrowed to that corner table, to the space between them where words and laughter lingered like soft music.
Sera found herself wondering why it felt so natural, so familiar. Liam too, couldn't shake the sense that he had known her before, in some forgotten place, some distant time. There was a thread that tied their hearts together delicate, invisible, but undeniable.
And without either of them realizing, somewhere deep within their souls. Past the veil of time, beyond the reach of memory two old promises stirred. They whispered softly, in unison, as if carried by the same breath: I have found you again.
Neither of them heard it, not with their ears, but they felt it, in the comfort of the moment, in the strange certainty that this meeting was not the first… and it would not be the last.