Atasha's POV
So I smiled when we met again—this time at our usual café tucked between the flower shop and the bookstore. The place had become our unwritten routine, where conversations flowed over shared lattes and sketchbook doodles. He greeted me with that same charming grin, the one that made me forget everything and remember it all at once. He spoke about his mother, his move, and adjusting to the new school. I nodded, laughed, and even blushed, but beneath my steady smile, my eyes searched for something deeper—something hidden. My instincts whispered that our paths hadn't crossed by mere chance, that Antonio hadn't just stumbled into my life... he had chosen to. And I couldn't help but wonder why.
Antonio's POV
The café felt warm against the cool breeze slipping in through the door, but nothing matched the warmth in her eyes when she looked up at me. Atasha—Selene, to my heart—had that kind of presence that made the chaos of my life settle, even for a moment. I hadn't meant to spill my thoughts today, but something about this setting, about her, made it feel right.
"I moved here with my family not too long ago," I began, stirring the coffee in front of me. "Not because we wanted to, but because of my dad's business expansion. He's in international trading—always looking for the next city to set roots in. So, here we are. New school, new place... new chances."
Her gaze didn't waver. I took a breath, one I didn't realize I'd been holding.
"I have two sisters—an elder and a younger one. You'd think growing up with two girls would make me better at understanding emotions, but... guess not." I tried to laugh lightly, but the weight of what I wanted to say next anchored my smile.
"They've been fighting. Recently. A huge misunderstanding. I still don't know the full reason—neither of them will open up. It's personal, I know that much. But the silence at home... it's heavy. That's why I've been going back and forth, trying to get them to speak, to meet halfway. I don't want our home to feel like a war zone anymore."
Her fingers tightened slightly around her mug, empathy painting her features.
"I guess," I said more quietly, "that's why I'm drawn to calm things now. To moments like this. To people like you. You make the noise fade."
There it was—too honest, too soon maybe. But with her, I didn't want to pretend. I wanted her to see the real version of me—the guy juggling family expectations, unfamiliar emotions, and now, a heart that kept getting pulled toward her.
I stirred the coffee absently, my thoughts tangled somewhere between past and present. There was something strange and beautiful about how the universe worked—how it led you to someone even before you realized you needed them.
"I need to tell you something," I said softly, glancing at Atasha. "You won't believe it, but… my mom actually met you before I did."
Her eyes widened slightly, curiosity flickering across her face. I went on.
"It was a few months before I transferred here. You'd fallen, scraped your knees—nothing too serious, but you ended up at the clinic where my mom works. She's a part-time nurse and also a therapist there. She told me about a girl who came in quiet but had this fierce fire in her eyes. Said you didn't cry, not even when she cleaned your wounds. Said you smiled instead, and when she asked why, you replied, 'Because the hurt means I'm still strong enough to feel something.'"
I paused, the memory of my mom's words still etched in my mind.
"She never forgot you. Called you her 'little firefly'—said you reminded her of someone glowing even in pain. She didn't know your name at the time, but when I told her about you weeks later, she put it together instantly. 'That's her,' she said. 'That's the girl with a storm in her chest and art in her hands.'"
I leaned back, eyes locking with Atasha's. "You've been in my story longer than I even knew. Maybe that's why the moment I saw you, it already felt like I'd found something I didn't know I was missing."