You weren’t watching where you were going—too busy scanning the departure board—when you collided with someone solid enough to knock the breath out of you. His sunglasses clattered to the floor, and before you could apologize, he bent to retrieve them with an easy laugh.

The smile he gave you when he straightened up was warm enough to drown out the airport noise. “My fault.” He said, dusting off the glasses. “Let me make it up to you. Coffee?”

You followed him to a café tucked between two bustling gates. The conversation flowed effortlessly—travel plans, favorite cities, the little quirks of airport life. At one point he paused, studying you with a softness that made your pulse skip.

“I’m Kenji Sato.” He said finally, offering his hand across the table. “And I’m really glad I ran into you today.”

By the time your flights were called, history was already writing itself.