The next day carried a strange stillness.
She woke with an ache that felt older than her body, the kind that lingers even after the tears have dried. She had forced herself to eat, failed again, and told herself it didn't matter. Routine was survival now. And survival meant getting back to the life she had abandoned, her music.
By late afternoon, she found herself standing before the old music center. The faint echo of piano notes drifted from inside, like ghosts of the melodies she used to play. Her fingers trembled as she signed the registration sheet. For the first time in months, she felt something stir; not joy, but the memory of it.
When the formalities were done, her feet carried her, as they always did, to the little café across the street. Her sanctuary of noise and silence.
The bell chimed as she entered, the scent of roasted beans greeting her like an old friend. She smiled faintly - ironic, really. She was allergic to coffee beans, but the aroma made her feel alive, grounded, like she belonged somewhere.
Her usual table by the window was free.
She sat, tracing the rim of her cup as the world outside moved without her. People laughed, screens glowed, spoons clinked: life, in motion. She was somewhere between the past she hadn't escaped and the future she couldn't imagine.
The evening sun bled into amber hues, brushing her skin with warmth she didn't feel.
Her thoughts wandered to what she'd lost, to how easily the world had moved on, to how music was the only thing that hadn't betrayed her.
Then, the door chimed again.
A soft gust of wind swept through, carrying in the scent of something unfamiliar… something that made her look up without reason.
And there he was.
In the crowd of strangers and the murmur of casual chatter, his presence seemed to shift the very air. He wasn't extraordinary by appearance alone. It was something quieter, deeper, an invisible gravity that pulled her gaze toward him before she could stop herself.
His eyes found hers across the small, bustling café.
And in that instant, time forgot how to move.
It wasn't attraction, not yet. It was recognition.
A silent jolt that rippled through her veins like déjà vu.
As if somewhere, in some forgotten existence, their souls had stood face-to-face before and whispered, "There you are."
She froze, breath caught somewhere between disbelief and awe.
He didn't look away either.
For a heartbeat, they were suspended; two strangers, tethered by something ancient and wordless.
The world around them blurred; the clinking cups, the hum of conversation, even the steady rhythm of rain against glass, all of it faded into a distant echo.
And then, the barista called out an order.
The spell broke.
Both blinked, startled, as if waking from a dream they couldn't remember.
He looked down at his phone; she stirred her coffee with a trembling spoon, pretending to be unbothered. But their traitorous hearts still raced to the same silent rhythm.
Neither knew that the other's eyes wandered again, drawn irresistibly, seeking confirmation that it had been real.
Neither realized that they both stole glances when the other wasn't looking: two souls circling the same gravity, unaware they were already caught in its pull.
And when she finally left the café, her reflection in the glass caught the faintest smile; unsure, shaken, but alive.
For the first time in years, the ache in her chest wasn't from sorrow.
It was from something far more dangerous.
Something she didn't yet have a name for.