It was at the crowded café on a rainy Saturday afternoon when they met. The hum of conversation mingled with the soft patter of raindrops against the windows. James had been nursing a coffee, eyes scanning over his book, when they walked in.

They. Their presence seemed to ripple through the room, as if the air itself acknowledged them. Their pretty eyes met his, a flicker of recognition passing between them. Not the kind of recognition that comes from knowing someone’s name or face but something deeper—something that felt like fate had already woven their threads together long before this moment.

James’ heart skipped a beat, an inexplicable pull toward them. He couldn’t place it, but the connection felt like it was always meant to happen. They smiled shyly, walking toward the counter to order, their steps almost hesitant, yet somehow graceful.

He stood up, the words slipping out before he could think twice, “Do we—have we met before?”

They paused, staring at him with those same, searching eyes. "I don’t think so," they replied, but there was something in their voice that made James feel like they were lying, or maybe just not ready to admit what he already knew.

"It’s just… you seem familiar," he added, the air around them thick with something unspoken.