she

She didn’t believe in timing. Not after all the missed chances, the almosts, and the goodbyes that came too quietly.

But that evening, the rain started just as she left the café, and she forgot her umbrella—again.

“Still doing that?” a voice said behind her. She turned. It was him. Same eyes. Same calm smile.

Just older, like time had been kind enough to both of them in different ways.

“I guess some habits don’t change,” she said, trying to sound normal, failing slightly.

He stepped closer, holding out his umbrella without asking. “Walk with me?” They didn’t talk much at first.

Just the sound of rain and footsteps that somehow matched without effort. But silence didn’t feel empty this time.

It felt like something unfinished finally finding its way back.

At the corner where they used to say goodbye, he stopped. “I always thought I’d see you again,” he said quietly.

She looked up at him, rain slipping off the edge of the umbrella. “And now?” He smiled, softer this time.

“Now I’m not letting it be another coincidence.” And for the first time in a long time, she didn’t argue with timing.