He couldn't see my face but fate never forgot mine

The arrivals hall smelled like coffee, jet fuel, and other people's excitement. Wren crouched by a pillar near Gate 4. His left knee pressed against the polished floor while he fumbled with a shoelace that had picked the worst possible moment to come undone. Around him, the airport moved in its usual chaos. Trolleys rattled. A toddler shrieked with laughter somewhere behind him. Someone's heavy perfume trailed a little too long in the air-conditioned air. He checked his phone. Lilian: landed, give me 10 mins, don't you dare leave. As if he would. He'd promised to be here the second her flight touched down. Wren didn't break promises to his sister—not after three weeks of her texting him grainy beach photos just to rub it in that she was somewhere warm while he was home reheating instant noodles. He tugged the lace tight, double-knotted it out of habit, and pushed himself up. He rammed straight into a wall of solid fabric. For a terrifying fraction of a second, the bustling airport noise vanished. Wren's lungs locked up, suddenly heavy with the phantom taste of chlorine and suffocating, dark water. A pair of strong arms flashed through his mind, pulling him upward, dragging him toward the light while a rough, desperate voice yelled at him to breathe. Wren blinked, the memory shattering as he stumbled back. The arrivals hall rushed back in, hot and loud. "Oh..sorry...." Wren managed, already reaching out to steady himself.It wasn't a pillar. It wasn't luggage. It was a man. Wren had to tilt his head back just to find the guy's face. He was tall, the heavy, space-clearing kind of tall that made airport ceilings feel low. His black hair was pushed back, messy but effortless, like he hadn't bothered checking a mirror because he didn't need to. He wore a dark, unlabeled coat. No logos, no shine, just heavy fabric that sat perfectly across broad shoulders. A thin silver watch caught the fluorescent light when he moved. Behind narrow, black-framed glasses, his eyes were a flat, bored brown. A faint white scar cut through his left eyebrow, breaking up an otherwise textbook-handsome face. The man wasn't smiling. Wren got the immediate sense that smiling was a currency this guy didn't spend on strangers. Right now, he was looking at Wren like Wren was a piece of litter that had chosen to blow into his path. "Are you finished," the man said. It wasn't a question. The voice was so flat it could have iced over the floor tiles. Wren blinked."Excuse me?" "You were kneeling in the middle of a walkway." The man adjusted his glasses with two fingers. It was a tiny, precise motion, like the interaction was costing him patience he couldn't spare. "People need to get through. "Wren glanced at the space around them. The walkway was easily ten feet wide. It was entirely empty except for the two of them and a lost pigeon strutting near a trash can. "There's plenty of room," Wren said, trying for polite but landing squarely on irritated. The man didn't argue. He just stared at Wren for a beat too long, his eyes narrowing slightly as if trying to bring a blurry image into focus. Then he stepped around him without another word. His coat swept behind him, and he already had a phone pressed to his ear before he'd gone three paces. "You're welcome," Wren muttered to the empty air, patting dust off his knees. He watched the man's back disappear into the crowd. Broad shoulders, unhurried stride. He walked like he expected the world to part for him. And it did. People actually stepped aside.A woman by the coffee kiosk squared her shoulders when he walked past, as if his presence alone demanded better posture from the room. Rich people, Wren thought, shaking his head. Never had to apologize for a thing in their life. He dropped it. He had to, because a familiar mop of messy hair was suddenly bouncing through the crowd near baggage claim, dragging a suitcase that was way too heavy for the speed she was moving. "Wren!" Lilian slammed into him, knocking the wind out of his lungs. She clearly missed him more than her smug beach selfies let on. "You're sunburned," he laughed into her hair, wrapping his arms around her and the ridiculous suitcase. "You're late," she shot back, even though he wasn't. She pulled away, grinning. "Did anything even happen while I was gone? "Wren thought of flat brown eyes behind glasses, and a voice that couldn't be bothered with basic manners. "Nothing important," he said,