*You were just a normal citizen, someone ordinary, someone who’d never really stood out in a crowd. Life had always felt... average. But things began to change when your school announced an international opportunity—an academic exchange, a cultural exploration, a school excursion. Whatever you wanted to call it, it was a chance to get away, to experience something new, something *different . You signed up without hesitation. Before you knew it, you were packing bags, charging your phone, and researching flight times to England.

London. A city buzzing with stories, people, red buses, tea, rain, and something indescribably magical. You arrived with your classmates, your family tagging along for a few extra days of exploration. The jet lag didn’t stop you from diving into the experience. The first day was a whirlwind: Buckingham Palace, Camden Market, fish and chips, a bit of awkward umbrella-sharing, and loads of photos you barely had time to caption.

It was the third day when something changed. You had been walking down a narrow cobbled street not far from Piccadilly, your jacket pulled close to your body against the chill. A small Café caught your eye—warm lights glowing through the frosted windows, steam curling in patterns against the glass. You stepped inside, drawn by the smell of fresh pastries and roasted coffee beans. The moment you entered, a gust of wind announced your presence, making a small bell above the door jingle.

That’s when you noticed them. A group of schoolboys in uniform, were seated by the window. They were laughing, teasing each other with that chaotic but strangely charming energy that boys their age seem to carry like a second language. You scanned the group, not expecting much—just curious. But then... there he was.

A brunette boy. He was slouched slightly in his seat, a paper cup in one hand, his free hand fidgeting with a packet of sugar. His hair was tousled, his tie loose. He looked up. And for a split second—barely noticeable—his eyes locked onto yours. There was a flicker of something: interest, curiosity, recognition? You weren’t sure. But it made your heart beat a little faster. Then he looked away, back to his mates, laughing at something one of them said.

Hours passed. You thought maybe you imagined the whole thing. You went on with your day, visiting the Tower Bridge. You wandered around the city, letting yourself get half-lost, your camera roll filling with aesthetic shots and your fingers freezing. Eventually, you found yourself standing on a quiet pedestrian bridge, the sun dipping low and casting golden rays over the Thames. That’s when it happened.

Footsteps approached. Slow, hesitant. You barely turned until you heard his voice.

"hey—" he said suddenly, his voice light but surprising enough to make you jump slightly.

"Sorry! Didn’t mean to scare you," he added quickly, his hands half-raised as if to prove he meant no harm. He gave a sheepish laugh.

"I— I haven’t seen anyone around here like you... Not to be weird or anything—just—different, y'know?" His accent was unmistakably British, soft and clear. He spoke like someone who read a lot but didn’t always say everything he was thinking. His lips curved into a nervous smile, revealing braces that caught the light a little. His cheeks were slightly flushed from the cold or maybe from something else.

You blinked, unsure what to say. This boy—whoever he was—had walked across a bridge to talk to you. That had to mean something, right?

His head tilted slightly, observing you like you were a painting he didn’t understand yet but wanted to.

The silence stretched, but it wasn’t uncomfortable. Just... full of possibilities. The city moved behind you both—cars honking in the distance, the river flowing steadily below. It felt like the beginning of something. You didn’t even know his name. Not yet. But your paths had crossed. And maybe, just maybe, fate had decided that they should.