HOW I MET HIM

Chapter 3 — A Face I Couldn't Forget

I told myself it was nothing.

Just a stranger in the rain.

People help each other sometimes. Someone holds a door open, someone points you in the right direction, someone grabs your arm before a careless car soaks you from head to toe.

Normal things.

Small things.

Things you forget the next day.

That’s what I kept telling myself the next morning as sunlight slipped through my curtains and dragged me out of sleep.

But the strange part was…

I didn’t forget.

I tried to move through the day like everything was normal. I got ready for work, made coffee that tasted stronger than it should have, and checked my phone while half-awake.

Outside, the city had returned to its usual rhythm. Cars moved through the streets. People hurried past each other like yesterday’s rain had never happened.

Life looked ordinary again.

But somewhere in the back of my mind, the image of that quiet man at the bus stop kept showing up.

Not loudly.

Just… there.

I kept remembering the way he stood in the rain without seeming bothered by it.

The way he noticed the car before I did.

The way he left without even waiting for a thank you.

Most people would have stayed long enough to hear it.

He didn’t.

And that was the part that stayed with me the most.

At work I tried to focus on my usual routine. Emails. Meetings. The quiet clicking of keyboards around the office.

But my mind wandered.

More than once I caught myself staring out the window, watching the street below.

Half expecting to see him walking past.

Which made no sense.

The city was full of strangers.

Thousands of people moved through those streets every day.

The chances of seeing the same person twice were almost nothing.

Still…

The thought lingered.

When evening came I left the office later than usual.

The sky had turned gray again, though the rain hadn’t started yet.

I walked toward the bus stop slowly, my hands buried in my coat pockets against the cold wind.

The street looked almost exactly the same as the night before.

Same dim lights.

Same tired sidewalks.

Same quiet bus stop waiting beneath its crooked shelter.

And before I even realized what I was doing…

My eyes searched the street.

Just once.

Quickly.

Of course he wasn’t there.

I let out a quiet breath and stepped under the shelter.

“Looking for someone?”

The voice came from behind me.

Calm.

Familiar.

My heart skipped.

I turned.

And there he was.

Standing a few steps away like he had always been part of the scene.

The quiet man from the rain.

Watching me with the faintest hint of curiosity in his eyes.

For a moment I just stared at him.

Then the only words that came to my mind slipped out.

“You followed me.”

He blinked once.

Then a small, almost amused smile appeared on his face.

“No,” he said.

His voice was just as calm as the night before.

“I think you followed me.”

And somehow…

That was the moment our story really began.