The first time they truly noticed each other, they didn't speak.
It happened at a bus stop just before dusk.
Elena stood scrolling through her phone, earbuds in, music low. Lucas sat on the bench behind her, elbows on his knees, staring at the pavement. The bus was late.
Again.
Elena laughed quietly at something on her screen.
Lucas looked up.
Not because of the sound—but because something about it felt familiar, like a memory he hadn't lived yet.
For a moment, their reflections overlapped in the darkened glass of the bus shelter.
Elena glanced up—then away. Lucas hesitated—then looked down.
The bus arrived. People moved.The moment dissolved.
Elena stepped onto the bus through the front door. Lucas boarded through the middle.
They rode in opposite halves of the same vehicle, separated by nothing more than space and fear and timing.
Neither of them knew that this was the closest they would come for a very long time.