Something inside me shifted slow but irreversible.
A pull.
A craving.
A hunger that had nothing to do with emotion and everything to do with inevitability.
Distance became suffocating.
Watching from far felt like breathing through cloth.
The space between us had to shrink eventually.
And it did.
You returned to the café.
Same seat.
Same notebook.
Same quiet softness that made the world dim around you.
But this time, I sat inside too.
A few tables away.
Close enough to hear the soft scratch of your pen.
Close enough to feel the gravity you carried without realizing.
I didn’t stare.
Predators don’t stare.
They observe through reflections glass windows, spoon surfaces, shadows on the floor.
You ordered the same drink.
You didn’t look in my direction.
And that lack of recognition filled me with a strangely satisfying ache.
I wasn’t ready to be seen.
Not yet.
But soon.
Very soon.
Your routines were closing in.
Your world becoming smaller.
Not because you changed
but because I was quietly filling the invisible spaces around you.
One day, when the moment was right…
You would finally see me.
Not as a stranger.
Not as coincidence.
But as the man who had known you long before you ever noticed him.
My story was already woven into yours.
You just hadn’t read my chapter yet.