Unwritten Meeting

The waves rolled in gently, breaking into thin foam that melted back into the wet sand. The scent of the sea mixed with the sweet smell of coconuts from a nearby stall. On a quiet corner of the beach, Daisy sat cross-legged on a blue beach cloth. Her laptop was open, the cursor blinking mocking her empty mind. She wore a black tank top under a loose white shirt, tied hair messy from the heat. Her skin was sun-kissed—an effortless bronze earned from days of wandering around Bali while “running away” from work that wouldn’t leave her alone. On the screen, a half-finished draft under the pen name Dion waited for her brain to cooperate. “Come on, Dion… just a little more,” she muttered, hitting delete for the tenth time. A shadow suddenly fell across her laptop. Daisy looked up. A man stood there, familiar in a way she couldn’t ignore—Edward, an actor she’d seen in a few action-romance films. Tall, hair tousled by the wind, wearing a white T-shirt and linen pants. He looked relaxed, like any other tourist who’d forgotten about deadlines. “Hey. Sorry to interrupt, but you look… incredibly lonely.” He pointed at her laptop. “Or stressed. People who stare at a blank screen alone usually need emergency rescue.” She blinked, a bit startled, though she hid it well. “I’m just thinking. Writing.” He studied her for a moment before nodding. “Oh, so you’re a tourist too? I thought you were local… or someone who’s lived here for years.” His eyes flicked to her tanned skin. “You look like someone who’s made peace with the Bali sun.” A small laugh escaped her. “Not local. And I’ve only been here for a month.” “Seriously? I thought you were from around here. Your English is good, but there’s a… vibe.” He sat down beside her without asking, eyes on the sunset sliding toward the horizon. “I’m Edward, by the way.” She knew, of course. But she kept her expression neutral. “Daisy.” “Just Daisy? No long, impossible-to-pronounce full name?” They fell quiet for a moment, letting the sound of the waves fill the space between them. Edward peeked at her screen. “What are you writing? Blog? Diary? A secret novel that’s going to make you famous?” She smiled faintly. “I’m not the type to show my work. Besides… I’m already pretty well-known in writing.” She didn’t mention Dion, the online persona with millions of readers. He didn’t pry. Instead, he looked at her with a light curiosity—not intrusive, just interested. “If you need inspiration, just look around you. Bali is basically a cheat code for writers. Everything is poetic.” “Even actors who sit down uninvited?” He raised an eyebrow. “Wait… you know I’m an actor?” “I saw one of your films. The one where you were a doctor but ended up running from the Russian mafia.” “Oh, that one.” He covered his face dramatically. “Please don’t judge my acting based on that.” She laughed—an easy, soft sound she hadn’t made in weeks. Edward stood and brushed the sand from his pants. “I’m heading to the stall for coconut water. Want to come? Or at least want me to order one for you so you don’t look too… alone?” She rolled her eyes, but a small smile betrayed her. “Fine. Coconut water sounds good.” They walked side by side along the sand, the wind lifting strands of her hair. Edward glanced at her now and then, though she couldn’t tell if he was simply curious or already strangely comfortable in her presence. Neither of them knew—Daisy least of all, and Edward even less—that this wouldn’t be their only meeting. In a few days, fate would sit them side by side again, far above the clouds… in business class. And after that, fate would start working overtime.