Love at first sight

Full circle

The months passed like pages turning in a favorite novel—quickly, but savored.

Autumn gave way to winter. The trees that once shaded their park walks now stood bare, branches laced with frost. But the cold didn’t matter. They shared warmth in late-night talks, in hands clasped beneath jackets, in the comfort of knowing neither of them had to search anymore.

Alex’s writing flourished. The short story he started—the one inspired by their first glance—turned into something bigger. It became a novel. Not a grand epic or a masterpiece of literary genius, but a story full of heart. A story about finding something real in an unexpected place.

Emma continued illustrating. They collaborated on a project together—his words, her images. They fought over commas and color palettes, then laughed and ordered pizza and started over. They made a good team, on and off the page.

One evening, while walking through the holiday market in the city square, Emma stopped at a vendor’s booth.

“Look,” she said, holding up a small snow globe. Inside was a tiny bookstore, its windows glowing yellow, snow swirling around it.

Alex stared at it, a smile tugging at his lips. “It looks like Maple & Ink.”

She nodded. “I think it’s a sign.”

He bought it.

He kept it on his desk, a reminder of how one moment can change everything.

A year later, Alex stood once again in Maple & Ink, the same poetry aisle, heart pounding like it had the first time.

He wasn’t alone this time.

Emma was there too, her hand wrapped around his, unaware of the small velvet box in his coat pocket.

She pulled a volume from the shelf—Rumi, her favorite—and flipped it open. A folded note slipped out and fluttered to the floor.

Frowning, she picked it up and unfolded it.

Her breath caught as she read.

It was a poem. A short one. Alex’s handwriting.

“I saw you once in a silent crowd,

Your eyes a doorway, your smile a vow.

I knew you before I knew your name,

And loving you—I'll never be the same.”

When she looked up, tears brimming in her eyes, Alex was already kneeling.

He didn’t need to say much. Just her name.

“Emma.”

She laughed through the tears, nodding before he even asked.

“Yes,” she whispered. “Yes, a thousand times.”

Epilogue

Years later, people would ask them how they met. Sometimes they’d tell the whole story—the bookstore, the café, the rain. Sometimes they’d keep it simple.

“It was love at first sight,” Alex would say.

And Emma would smile, resting her head on his shoulder. “And then it just kept getting better.”