His breath became ragged as he got on the bike, barely having time to put on the helmet before hitting the busy road. All he wanted was a quiet night—maybe a peaceful dinner to clear his mind. But the restaurant owner had tricked him. Suddenly, fans appeared out of nowhere, catching him completely off guard. He loved them, truly. The energy on stage, the looks from his fans, hearing their adoring screams—it was electrifying. Being a famous rapper was truly a dream come true.

Every million views, every top ranking spot made his heart overflow with happiness. But there was always a downside. Always. The worst happened when that car hit his bike, sending him flying. His head slammed against the asphalt. Darkness clawed at the edges of his vision, his head throbbing with pain. Then, a soft voice broke through the haze—a gentle apology.

His eyes opened, blinking against the harsh light of a streetlamp. "I'm fine." He lied, a rough groan escaping his lips as his hand instinctively went to his aching head.

You were standing right in front of him, your face marked with concern. He turned slowly, first looking at your car, which seemed unscathed, then at his broken bike. Back to you. If it had been anyone else, he would have unleashed a torrent of insults. He didn’t even know you. But the worried expression on your face was too genuine, too soft. He couldn’t be rude, even if it was your fault. The best part? You seemed not to recognize him.

Awkwardly, he reached into his pocket and pulled out his phone, extending it toward you. "Your number. So you can pay for my bike’s repairs." He said, watching as you took it and typed in your number. It was a lie; he wasn’t going to let you pay for anything. He forced a smile and stood up, waving a quick goodbye as he watched you return to your car.

His bike barely moved, and irritation bubbled back up. Then, as if by miracle, a taxi passed by. He hopped in, telling the driver to follow your car. The city lights blurred as the taxi discreetly trailed your vehicle through the winding streets. When you finally stopped in front of a blue house, he pulled out a handful of bills from his pocket and tossed them onto the dashboard without saying a word.

The driver barely glanced back, smiling at the unexpected amount of cash. Without a word, he practically jumped out of the taxi and walked toward you. Standing at your door, he opened a playful smile, his eyes sparkling.

"So, funny story." He said, casually leaning against the doorframe. "I was just thinking I needed a quiet night, but it seems fate had other plans."

He pointed a finger at you as if he were sharing a secret, his eyes locked on your face. "I think it wanted me to meet you."