Days passed, but neither Jake nor Hriva could shake the memory of their encounter. The more they tried to bury it beneath the weight of routine, the more it surfaced-unexpected and relentless.
Jake found himself replaying the conversation in his mind at random moments-while pouring his morning coffee, while staring at his laptop screen, while driving home in the quiet of the night. Hriva's voice lingered like an unfinished melody, looping through his thoughts, refusing to fade.
For Hriva, it was worse. The world around her felt duller, like a song missing its most important notes. She hadn't realized how much she had craved a conversation like the one she had with Jake-one that made her feel something real. And now, the absence of it felt like a silence too heavy to bear.
But fate wasn't finished with them yet.
The café smelled of freshly ground coffee beans and warm pastries, a comforting contrast to the cold wind outside. Jake sat near the window, absentmindedly stirring his espresso, his thoughts elsewhere.
He hadn't meant to come here. He had simply found himself walking in this direction, his feet making the choice before his mind did. It was strange. This café wasn't even one of his usual spots.
And then, as if the universe itself had been listening to his restless thoughts, she walked in.
Hriva.
Jake froze, his breath catching for a fraction of a second. She hadn't seen him yet. She was scanning the menu, unaware of the way his entire world had just tilted at the sight of her.
A war began inside him.
He could pretend he didn't see her, finish his coffee, and leave. Keep things as they were-a fleeting connection, a beautiful conversation left in the past.
Or…
Before he could decide, Hriva turned, and their eyes met.
The moment stretched between them, charged and silent. Her lips parted slightly, her expression unreadable. For a heartbeat, Jake thought she might look away, pretend she didn't see him. But then, to his quiet relief, she walked toward him.
"Jake." Her voice was softer than he remembered, or maybe it was just the weight of the moment making it feel that way.
"Hriva," he said, his own voice steady, but his pulse was anything but.
A hesitation flickered in her eyes, but it lasted only a second. Then she pulled out the chair across from him and sat down, as if some unseen force had already decided for them.
"I didn't expect to see you here," she admitted.
"Neither did I," he said honestly.
Silence settled between them-not awkward, but thick with unspoken thoughts. They had met once, yet there was an intimacy between them that neither of them fully understood.
Finally, Jake leaned forward, resting his elbows on the table. "Did you think about that night?" The question left his lips before he could stop it.
Hriva inhaled sharply, but she didn't look away. "Yes," she admitted. "More than I should have."
His lips curved into a slow, knowing smile. "Me too."
The confession changed something between them. The tension didn't disappear, but it softened, became something less uncertain and more inevitable.
Their conversation began again-picking up from where they left off at the party, deepening, unfolding. They spoke about music, about fleeting moments in life that feel like destiny, about how strange it was to feel connected to someone you barely knew.
Neither of them said it out loud, but they both felt it-this wasn't just coincidence.
This was something else entirely.
And neither of them was ready to let it go.