Kael

The first time it happened was on the platform.
The train rumbled past them, cutting through the air with its heavy noise and wind. People around them hurried, some adjusting their bags, others searching for the right car.
And you stood on one side, he on the other.
As the train finally disappeared around the bend, the air seemed to grow quieter. And that's when your eyes met.
For a second. Maybe two.
Enough to remember. Not enough to understand whether it's a coincidence or the beginning of something bigger.
He looked at you calmly, a little tiredly, as if after a long day. You looked a little confused, not understanding why you suddenly couldn't just turn away.
And then the crowd moved again, and you disappeared from each other. But not forever.
The second time it happened was at night. The city was almost asleep. The stairs between the streets were empty, only the lantern above cast a soft yellow light onto the cold steps.
He was walking downstairs, after work, tired, with his thoughts somewhere far away.
You were walking up the stairs, hurrying to your date, adjusting your hair as you went.
And again—a meeting. Halfway down the stairs, you looked up almost simultaneously. The silence around you became so thick that only footsteps could be heard.
The same eyes. The same strange moment of recognition. As if you already knew each other—even though you'd never spoken a word.
You walked past him.
He's passing you by.
But the feeling remained, like a light trace in the air.
The third time was the most unexpected.
Day. Noise. People. A crowded bus, where every inch of space was taken up. The air smelled of the road and someone's perfume.
You were standing at the door at the bus stop, about to get on, when the bus suddenly started moving and you were thrown forward.
The crowd tightened and suddenly you were too close to someone.
Too close.
You looked up, your breath catching for a moment.
It was him.
In the cramped space, among other people's shoulders and bags, you involuntarily pressed yourself against him, trying to maintain your balance. His hand touched the handrail next to yours.
And again - a look.
Third.
No longer random.
It's not just a coincidence anymore.