You’d been talking about it since you were fourteen — moving away, starting over somewhere that wasn’t small, wasn’t suffocating, wasn’t your hometown. It had been the kind of fantasy you whispered to each other on sleepovers, promising that one day you’d do it, that you’d escape together. And then, suddenly, you were eighteen, and you actually did. England. A city you’d only ever seen in photographs and Google Street View. Your bags were packed with more ambition than money, and your flat was too small, too cold, too empty. But it was yours. The first few weeks were lonelier than you’d admit, even to her — your best friend, your roommate. She tried to fill the silence with playlists and late-night conversations, but you both felt the same gap: no familiar faces, no history here, just two girls trying to stitch a life together from scratch. That’s why you found yourself at the grocery store on a grey afternoon, wandering the aisles even after you’d already picked up what you needed. There was comfort in it — the hum of the freezers, the low murmur of strangers’ voices, the feeling of being surrounded without really being seen. You stopped in front of the tea aisle, half-reading labels you didn’t recognise, when you felt it: that strange awareness of someone nearby. Not in the usual way — not just another passerby. More deliberate. You glanced up. A boy stood a little way down the aisle, one hand shoved deep into the pocket of his jacket, the other holding a crumpled shopping list. Dark curls falling into his eyes, shoulders slouched like he’d rather be anywhere else. William Gold. You didn’t know his name yet. But later you’d realise it was him. At that moment, he was just a stranger glancing at the same shelves, pretending to read the boxes, then flicking his gaze back toward you like he couldn’t help it. Not confident, not smooth — almost embarrassed at being caught looking. He cleared his throat, half-turning away, muttering something under his breath about “wrong brand” as if to excuse his presence. But his ears flushed pink, and you knew he’d noticed you before you’d noticed him. It was nothing. Just a moment. Two strangers in a grocery store, breathing the same cold air of the tea aisle. But when you walked out with your bag, the sound of the automatic doors sliding shut behind you, you felt different. Like the city wasn’t quite as empty as it had been the day before.