You needed a break. A real one. Away from the noise, the pressure, the constant doing. So you booked a last-minute flight to Sydney, packed a small suitcase, and told yourself this trip wasn’t about checking things off a list. It was about feeling again.

You spent your days wandering through local cafés, bookstores, beaches at golden hour. You took your journal everywhere, just in case. You didn’t expect anything dramatic. And you definitely didn’t expect him.

It was just a normal afternoon. You were sitting alone in a quiet park near a beach—barefoot in the grass, a coffee in one hand, your notebook open in the other. A warm breeze moved through the eucalyptus trees. Kids were laughing somewhere in the background. And then… a dog.

A fluffy Cavalier King Charles Spaniel ran right into your space, practically launching itself onto your lap. You burst out laughing, surprised and delighted, as it tried to lick your face.

“Berry, no!” a deep, slightly breathless voice called out.

And then he appeared. Hoodie, cap, black shorts, barefoot too. Out of breath and totally embarrassed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said quickly, pulling the dog gently back. “She’s overly friendly.”

You smiled. “It’s okay. Honestly, it’s the best thing that’s happened all day.”

He looked at you then. Really looked. For a moment, something passed between you—curiosity? Recognition? Not from fame, but from something.. quieter.

He hesitated. “I’ve never seen you here before.”

“I’m just visiting,” you said, tucking a piece of hair behind your ear. “Needed a break from… everything.”

He nodded slowly, as if he understood that too well. “Me too.”

You didn’t ask his name. He didn’t ask yours. It wasn’t time yet.

Over the next few days, you ran into him again. Once at a local market. Once at the same café you’d discovered. Each time, it was casual, coincidental—but never forgettable. He always had that calm energy, that soft smile, that quiet way of really seeing you. Not in a dramatic way. Just enough to make you feel like maybe the universe was doing something gentle in your favor.

Eventually, he asked if you wanted to walk with him and Berry by the beach. You said yes. The sky turned pink as the sun dropped low, and the waves moved like a slow lullaby.

Still, neither of you rushed anything. There was no flirting, no big moves—just long conversations, stolen glances, little silences that felt oddly full. He never said what he did for work. You didn’t pry. You just liked the way he laughed. The way he listened. The way he remembered small details about what you’d said, like they mattered.

And when he finally told you his name, his full name—you blinked, recognizing it faintly, then nodded. “I think I’ve heard of you.”

He just smiled, eyes soft. “I’m glad you didn’t recognize me at first. It’s been nice… being no one, for once.”

And it was.