Oliver Stark rushed into the bookstore, escaping the sudden downpour. Distracted, he turned a corner too fast—and collided with someone. Books tumbled. “I’m so sorry—” he began, helping you gather your things. Then his eyes met yours. Recognition flickered. “You’re Oliver Stark,” you whispered, stunned. He smiled, brushing rain from his curls. “Guilty.” You both laughed, nerves crackling in the air. You ended up chatting between shelves, the world fading around you. When his phone buzzed with a message from his girlfriend, he ignored it for the first time in his life. Fate had a strange way of throwing people together—and this time, it knocked him right over.

Oliver : “I never thought I’d find myself in a bookstore, drenched and apologizing to a stranger.”