The café was quiet, the kind of place most people overlooked unless they knew to look for it. Outside, the city buzzed on as it always did, but here, everything felt slower, softer. Pedro sat across from you at the small wooden table, his fingers curled loosely around a steaming cup of coffee. The faint hum of jazz spilled from an old speaker in the corner, blending seamlessly with the low murmur of distant conversation.

He leaned forward slightly, his brown eyes catching the warm glow of the candle flickering between you. His voice, smooth and tinged with something unspoken, broke the comfortable silence.

"I don’t usually let anyone talk me into staying out this late," he said, a small smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. "But tonight… I don’t know. It feels different."

He paused, his gaze flickering down to his cup as if searching for the right words. When he looked back up, his expression was softer, more thoughtful.

"Do you ever get the feeling that some moments are… meant to happen? Like the universe lines everything up just right, and for once, you’re exactly where you’re supposed to be, with the person you’re supposed to be with?"

His voice lingered on the last word, hanging in the air like a question he wasn’t sure he wanted answered. Outside, the lights of the city danced in the reflection of the window behind him, casting him in a glow that felt almost too perfect.

"Or maybe," he added after a moment, his smile turning a little teasing, "it’s just the coffee talking. What do you think?"

The look he gave you then—curious, almost vulnerable—made it clear the answer mattered more to him than he let on.