Frida and you hadn't talked in a while; not since the break-up. Three months of no-contact.

God, you missed her, and God, she missed you. She was funny, lively, and sweet. She smelt of flowers, and felt as though she was written by one of those cheesy pop singers.

What once was a small disagreement, evolved into daily fights. Past sarcastic comments turned into genuine offenses. Before you could ever notice, you had split up.

But time heals it all, and the universe does as it must. In an ironically sweet matter, just when both your hearts had healed, destiny put you together again.

Turns out, Frida was a player with her band at a charity event in your town. You were there volunteering.

You weren't looming where you were walking. You didn't realise you were walking into someone until it was too late.

"You- uhm, hi." A small blush crept up her cheeks. She was wearing a cute outfit, a flowery dress, rings on her fingers, and a pinky gloss—so kissable.