Crossed Paths And First Spsrks
1610 Words
Chapter 4 – Crossed Paths and First Sparks
The morning sun filtered through the thin clouds, painting the city in soft gold and silver. Ava darted down the narrow street, her sneakers slapping against the pavement, breath coming in uneven bursts. The bus she’d been trying to catch hissed as its doors began to close.
“Wait! Just—hold on!” she shouted, waving frantically.
The driver didn’t see her.
She tried to speed up, but her tote bag swung wildly across her shoulder. Her sketchbook slipped out halfway, and before she could grab it—
Boom.
She ran straight into someone. Hard.
Papers scattered, her bag nearly tore, and the air left her lungs. She stumbled back, blinking furiously.
“Watch where you’re going!” came a sharp voice, low and annoyed.
Ava froze. That voice again.
When she looked up, her stomach twisted.
“Adrian?” she said, wide-eyed.
He looked just as startled, though his surprise quickly melted into an expression halfway between irritation and amusement.
“You again?” he said, crossing his arms.
Ava brushed her hair from her face, cheeks flushed. “Yes, me again. Apparently, fate enjoys watching me humiliate myself.”
He raised an eyebrow. “Fate, huh?”
“Or maybe I’m just bad at mornings,” she muttered, crouching to gather her fallen notebook.
Adrian sighed and bent down to help her. Their hands brushed briefly—just a passing touch—but it sent an unexpected spark through her. Her breath hitched. His fingers were warm, steady, too calm for the chaos she felt inside.
For a moment, the noise of the city faded—the car horns, the distant chatter, the hum of engines. It was just the two of them, hands nearly touching again as he picked up her notebook.
He flipped it open accidentally. His eyes lingered on a few handwritten lines.
“‘Dreams are pieces of forgotten lives,’” he read aloud softly. His gaze lifted to hers. “Your notes are… interesting.”
Ava felt her heart skip. “You didn’t even look properly,” she said, reaching for it.
A teasing smirk formed on his lips. “Curiosity got the better of me.”
There was that tone again—half-serious, half-inviting. The kind that made her feel both irritated and drawn in.
“Right,” she said, trying to sound casual. “Well, thanks… for the rescue, I guess.”
“You’re welcome,” he replied, his smirk softening into something almost kind. “Try not to collide with me again, alright?”
“No promises,” she said, glancing back one last time as she jogged toward the next bus stop.
She told herself it was nothing. Just another random encounter with the same frustratingly handsome stranger. But as the bus pulled away, she caught herself staring out the window, wondering why her heart was beating so fast.
Later that afternoon, the familiar hum of the café’s espresso machine filled the air. The scent of roasted beans and cinnamon hung thickly, comforting in its warmth.
Clara leaned on the counter, grinning like she already knew the answer to a question she hadn’t asked.
“So,” she began, drawing out the word. “You look… flushed. Did you go for a run, or did fate make you trip into someone again?”
Ava groaned and dropped her apron over her head. “You’re psychic, aren’t you?”
Clara laughed. “I knew it! You bumped into him again, didn’t you?”
“Yes, Clara. For the third time this week.” Ava sighed, tying her apron strings tighter than necessary. “At this point, I think the universe is mocking me.”
Clara wiggled her brows. “Mocking? More like matchmaking. You two have serious chemistry.”
“Stop.” Ava shook her head, trying not to smile. “He’s just… someone I keep running into. That’s all.”
“Uh-huh.” Clara poured herself a small cappuccino. “And let me guess—he’s tall, has that slightly arrogant charm, and a mysterious past you’re dying to uncover?”
Ava threw a napkin at her. “You watch too many dramas.”
“Maybe,” Clara said, laughing. “But admit it—there’s something about him.”
Ava hesitated. She wanted to deny it, but she couldn’t. There was something—something she couldn’t name. Every time she thought of Adrian’s eyes, she remembered the strange feeling she got in her dreams. Like she’d known him long before she ever met him.
That evening, Ava walked home slowly, her breath fogging faintly in the cool night air. The streetlights flickered, and the park near her apartment was almost empty—just the rustle of leaves and the faint sound of a street violinist in the distance.
She sat on her usual bench. The city lights shimmered like stars reflected on water.
She closed her eyes.
And the dream came again.
A courtyard of marble and moonlight.
The sound of wind through ancient trees.
And a voice—his voice—soft, broken.
“I’ll never let you go again…”
Ava’s eyes flew open. Her heart raced.
She pressed her hands to her chest, trying to steady herself. It felt so real. Too real.
Every time she dreamed, she saw him—not the man from the café or the street, but someone older, wrapped in the same sadness she saw sometimes in Adrian’s eyes.
She didn’t know what it meant. But she couldn’t shake the ache that followed.
The next day, the bell above the café door chimed.
Ava turned around, already smiling to greet the customer—and froze.
“You’re really here again,” she said.
Adrian stood there, hands in his pockets, wearing that same calm, unreadable expression.
“I couldn’t stay away,” he said simply. His voice was softer than before, hesitant. “I… wanted to see you.”
Clara, wiping glasses behind the counter, immediately ducked down like she was giving them privacy—though Ava could feel her friend’s grin from across the room.
Ava forced a polite smile. “Well, we do have the best coffee in town.”
“I’ll take your word for it,” Adrian said, sliding into a seat by the window. “But maybe the barista’s the real reason.”
Ava’s face went hot. “You’re impossible,” she muttered, walking over with his usual order—black coffee, no sugar.
They talked for a while, about books, the city, art, and little mundane things that shouldn’t have meant anything. But somehow, each word, each laugh, felt heavier than it should have—like pieces of a story they were only beginning to remember.
When Adrian left that afternoon, Ava found herself watching him go, her heart tangled in confusion and longing she couldn’t explain.
That night, the dream returned.
Stronger.
This time, she could hear his words clearly.
“I’m sorry… I had no choice.”
Ava reached out, desperate to hold onto the fading vision, but the moment she did, everything dissolved into light and silence.
She woke with tears on her cheeks.
She didn’t understand why she was crying for a man she barely knew—or why the sadness in her chest felt like something ancient, buried deep in her soul.
Meanwhile, across the city, Adrian sat in his dim apartment, the city skyline stretching beyond his window.
He couldn’t sleep. Ava’s laughter echoed in his mind—the way her eyes crinkled when she smiled, the way she got flustered when he teased her.
And the way she looked at him sometimes—like she saw someone else behind his face.
He leaned back, exhaling sharply.
He remembered.
Not everything, not clearly—but enough.
Enough to know that fate was cruel, and that their paths were never meant to cross again.
He closed his eyes, whispering to the empty room,
“I’m sorry… for then, and for now.”
But even as guilt gnawed at him, something stronger pulled him toward her. Something beyond reason or time.
The next morning, Ava stopped by the city library to drop off a few design journals she’d borrowed. She was halfway down the quiet aisle when she turned a corner—
—and collided with someone. Again.
Her bag fell, scattering pens and books everywhere.
“Seriously?” a familiar voice said, half laughing, half exasperated.
She looked up to see Adrian crouched down, holding one of her fallen books.
“Are we doing this on purpose now?” he asked, smirking.
Ava bit back a laugh. “Apparently, fate thinks it’s funny.”
He handed her the book, his fingers brushing hers again. For a heartbeat, neither moved. The world narrowed to that single touch—the warmth, the spark, the recognition.
Something passed between them—unspoken, ancient, and trembling with promise.
Not words.
Not logic.
Just two souls remembering.
Adrian’s expression softened, almost pained. “You really don’t remember, do you?” he murmured before he could stop himself.
Ava frowned. “Remember what?”
He hesitated, then smiled faintly, shaking his head. “Nothing. Just—be careful next time.”
As he walked away, Ava stood frozen, confusion swirling in her chest.
His words lingered long after he disappeared from sight.
You really don’t remember, do you?
Her pulse raced, and a strange warmth filled her chest.
Something deep inside whispered—
Maybe you will.
And for the first time, she wasn’t sure if she was afraid of remembering…
or of falling all over again.
- Writer
