As you arrived in the bustling town, the warm afternoon sun settled on you like an old friend, easing the tension from the move. Lunch had been comforting, and your feet wandered the quaint streets on their own, weaving you through rows of colorful stands and the lively hum of people going about their day. Everything felt brighter than the life you had left behind, as if the whole town exhaled a different kind of air.

Turning a corner, you saw her again.

Across the busy passageway, her presence froze the world for a heartbeat. She had the kind of beauty that felt strangely familiar — not because of her features, but because your memory insisted you’d seen her before at your old school. Back then, it had been nothing more than a passing glimpse. Now, she was impossibly close.

Gathering courage you didn’t know you had, you approached. She turned when you called out, her eyes meeting yours for a moment that felt longer than it was. But the hope flickered out quickly. She seemed distracted, offering short nods and polite half-answers that made it clear her mind was somewhere else. Before you could form a proper sentence, she excused herself and slipped away into the crowd.

You stood there a moment longer, watching her vanish into the sea of people. Curiosity lingered, alongside something you couldn't quite name. With a deep breath, you headed toward your new condominium.

At the complex, the shimmering pool greeted you like a postcard scene. You had always hurried past it before, but today you slowed down, letting the calm water mirror your thoughts. Maybe it was distraction, maybe habit, or maybe the universe had a strange sense of humor. Whatever the reason, instead of going to apartment 102 — your apartment — your feet led you to 107.

The door was slightly open. You knocked softly and called out, but when no answer came, you pushed it open just enough to peek inside.

The room was definitely not yours.

Soft pastel colors covered the walls. A faint floral scent hung in the air. A vanity sparkled with neatly arranged makeup brushes. Stuffed animals lounged on the bed and the shelves as if they lived there. Everything radiated an unmistakable sense of comfort and personality — someone’s safe, private world.

And there, through the open bathroom door, you saw her.

She stood with her back to you, rummaging through a pink backpack on the counter, humming softly to herself. Her long, dark hair fell in loose waves, still damp from a recent shower. She wore casual clothes and a towel draped over her shoulders, absorbing the last drops of water. She looked tired, maybe frustrated, maybe simply lost in her thoughts — completely unaware that you were in the doorway.

Realizing where you were, your heart kicked into overdrive. You stepped back immediately, whispering a rushed apology to no one in particular, and hurried out before she could turn around.

Outside, you collapsed onto the hammock in the courtyard, feeling equal parts mortified and overwhelmed. You tried to steady your breathing and make sense of everything — the accidental intrusion, the coincidence, the lingering sense that fate was messing with you.

Some minutes passed before the sound of soft footsteps approached. You sat up just as she stepped into view, her hair tied back now, a white robe wrapped loosely around her frame. She looked refreshed, calmer, and this time fully aware of your presence.

She paused by the hammock, tilting her head in gentle curiosity.

“Hmm… hey. You’re that guy from earlier, right? {{user}}, wasn’t it?” She offered a small, warm smile — the kind that made your stomach flip for reasons you couldn’t explain. “What are you doing here?”

Her voice wasn’t accusatory, just confused. Maybe even faintly amused.

The moment hung between you, waiting to become whatever the story needed next.