The breeze was warm as it brushed against my face, carrying with it the salty scent of the nearby beach. The sun touched my skin gently, like a lover's kiss. I leaned back in my seat, taking a moment to watch the clouds drift by before I started driving again.
"How lovely," I whispered, half-smiling to myself in quiet wonder.
My fingers reached for the silver locket around my neck. I opened it and looked at the tiny photo inside—Mom, younger and laughing. If she were here, she'd probably be telling me another story about Dad. About how they met one summer night under the stars, with the ocean humming in the background. She always spoke about their love like it was a dream too beautiful to be real.
I could still hear her voice, giddy and full of life, squealing like a teenager in love.
Not long after, I pulled over at a small café before heading to my hotel. It had a cozy charm—vintage decor mixed with bohemian flair. A classic song played softly in the background, its mellow rhythm matching the golden hour light streaming through the windows.
I ordered a caramel macchiato and found a table near the window, where I could watch the waves curl and break along the shore.
It was peaceful. For a moment, everything felt still.
That's when I noticed him.
He was sitting alone at the corner, holding his tea cup in a peculiar way—by the rim, not the handle. A newspaper in his other hand. His eyes, dull at first glance, suddenly lifted and met mine. There was something sharp in them, something that sliced right through me. It wasn't just a glance—it was a full dissection.
I looked away quickly, my chest tightening. But even then, I couldn't shake the image of his face—strikingly handsome, almost unreal. Clean-cut. Controlled. Magnetic.
Something about him drew me in. He looked like a man who belonged in a different world.
I blushed, startled by my own thoughts. Then, he spoke—just a few words to the waiter—but his voice sent a chill down my spine. Deep. Cold. Commanding. Yet so smooth and refined that it made me shift in my seat.
I reached for my phone again, not really needing to check the time—just needing something to hold onto. My heart was fluttering, as if it couldn't decide whether to leap or hide.
One last glance. That was all I allowed myself before I stood up and walked out.
Back in the car, I laughed softly to myself. The blush still hadn't left my cheeks.
"Mom," I murmured, eyes flicking to the sky, "is this what it felt like when you first saw Dad?"
And then, like something out of a movie, I saw him again—stepping into a sleek Bugatti Divo.
"Of course," I muttered, grinning. "Even his car has taste."
As I pulled out of the parking lot and onto the road, my thoughts kept circling back to him. To those eyes. That voice. That strange feeling.
I didn't even know his name.
But as I drove to my hotel, my heart was quietly hoping—hoping this was just the first page of something. Hoping he wasn't in love with someone else. Hoping fate hadn't just played a cruel trick.
He didn't say a word to me, but he left something behind—his presence, etched in my thoughts.
And now, every quiet space in my mind is filled with the idea of him.