Elena Alvarez hated mornings.

Not because she wasn’t a morning person, exactly — she had learned to function well enough after a strong cup of coffee and a half-hearted motivational playlist — but because mornings reminded her of everything she hadn’t yet figured out. At twenty-six, she was caught in the in-between of being old enough to know what she wanted and young enough to still feel like she was running late to her own life.

Today was no exception. The Monday sky was still gray as she hurried across downtown, balancing a leather tote on her shoulder and a cardboard tray holding two lattes. Her best friend and roommate, Priya, had begged her to stop at the café on the way to work. Elena didn’t mind, though it did make her dangerously close to being late — again.

She quickened her pace, heels clicking against the wet pavement. Somewhere behind the thick clouds, the sun was trying to rise. A breeze cut through her navy coat, carrying the smell of rain and roasted beans from the café she’d just left.

Elena told herself she liked the chaos of city life, though deep down she sometimes longed for the quieter mornings of her childhood: the sleepy town where her grandmother’s bakery opened at dawn, the smell of warm conchas drifting down the street. But that was a different life — one she’d left behind with the promise of chasing bigger dreams.

She didn’t see him until it happened.

The stranger appeared at the exact moment she stepped off the curb, his tall frame colliding with hers as if fate had pushed them together.

The impact jolted her forward. One of the latte cups wobbled dangerously, the lid popping off and sending a stream of hot foam across her coat sleeve. She gasped, fumbling with the tray as the stranger’s hand shot out to steady her elbow.

“Whoa, I’m so sorry,” his voice said — low, warm, and threaded with alarm.

Elena looked up, ready to snap something half-annoyed and half-resigned, but the words caught in her throat.

He was… unfairly good-looking. The kind of good-looking that made you blink once to be sure your brain hadn’t fabricated him out of a book cover. His dark hair was damp from the drizzle, curling slightly at the ends. A shadow of stubble framed his jaw. His eyes — stormy gray with flecks of green — locked onto hers with such unintentional intensity that she forgot, for a moment, how to breathe.

“It’s fine,” she managed, though her voice sounded thinner than she intended. “I should’ve been watching.”

“Looks like I ruined your coffee.” His lips tilted into an apologetic half-smile. He glanced at the spill on her sleeve. “Can I buy you another one? At least let me make it up to you.”

She shook her head quickly, clutching the surviving cup like a lifeline. “No, no, it’s fine. Really. I’m late for work anyway.”

The stranger hesitated, as if he wanted to argue, then gave her a small nod. For a beat, neither of them moved. The city bustled around them — honking taxis, footsteps, the rustle of newspapers in a vendor’s hands — but Elena felt caught in a strange stillness.

He stepped back, releasing her elbow slowly, almost reluctantly. “Well… sorry again. Have a good day.”

“You too.”

And just like that, he was gone — disappearing into the blur of morning commuters as if the universe had created him for a fleeting moment only to snatch him away.

Elena stood frozen for a second longer, her heart inexplicably quickened. She shook herself, forcing her feet to move. It was just a stranger, she reminded herself. Handsome or not, there was no reason to think twice about it.

Except… she was already thinking twice.

---

Later that night, Elena sat curled on the sofa in her small apartment, laptop balanced on her knees. Priya padded out from the kitchen in fuzzy socks, carrying a bowl of popcorn.

“So, how was work?” Priya asked, plopping down beside her.

Elena groaned dramatically. “Meetings. Deadlines. Clients who think design revisions appear magically overnight. The usual.”

Priya laughed, tucking her legs underneath her. “And? Did anything interesting happen?”

Elena hesitated. She wasn’t sure why she wanted to keep the morning incident to herself, like a tiny secret treasure. But Priya knew her too well.

“You met someone,” Priya accused, eyes narrowing playfully.

“What? No!” Elena protested, cheeks warming. “I spilled coffee on myself, that’s all.”

Priya gasped with exaggerated delight. “And let me guess — the guy who bumped into you was ridiculously attractive?”

Elena buried her face in a cushion. “How do you always know?”

“Because you’re glowing,” Priya teased, tossing a piece of popcorn at her. “Don’t even try to hide it. Did you get his number?”

“No,” Elena admitted. “It was just a few seconds. He apologized and left.”

Priya rolled her eyes. “Classic rom-com meet-cute and you let him walk away? Elena!”

Elena laughed, shaking her head. “Real life isn’t a rom-com.”

But later, lying in bed with the city lights bleeding through the curtains, Elena thought about the stranger’s gray-green eyes again.

And she wondered — for the first time in a long time — what if life could surprise her?

---

The next morning, she found out life sometimes does.

The café was crowded when Elena ducked inside for her daily latte. She stood in line scrolling through her phone until she heard a familiar voice at the counter.

“Large black coffee, please. No sugar.”

Her head snapped up.

There he was. The stranger. Same damp curls, same stubble-shadowed jaw, same easy way of standing like the world bent to give him space.

Her pulse stumbled.

She hesitated, debating whether to say something or quietly fade into the background. But fate seemed determined to meddle again.

He turned. And his eyes landed directly on her.

Recognition flickered. Then came that half-smile she remembered.

“Well,” he said. “Guess I owe you another apology.”

Chapter Two: Second Chances

For a moment, Elena froze. The café noise dulled — the hiss of the espresso machine, the hum of early conversations, the clink of mugs — all of it faded into the background as her gaze locked with his.

The stranger.

Her stomach twisted with nerves and something else she refused to name. Of all the cafés in the city, of all the mornings, he had to be here again.

He smiled, easy and unhurried, as if he had expected this. “Guess we’ve got a habit of running into each other.”

Elena shifted, suddenly self-conscious in her rumpled coat and messy bun. “Apparently,” she said, trying for casual, though her pulse betrayed her.

He stepped aside to let another customer pass, then nodded toward the counter. “Getting your coffee again?”

“Yes. I, um… kind of need it to function.”

“That makes two of us.” He held up his cup. “Black coffee. My one reliable constant.”

She smiled despite herself. “Reliable isn’t a word I’d use for coffee.”

He tilted his head, studying her with amused eyes. “What would you use?”

“Necessary,” she said. “Addictive. Possibly life-saving.”

He laughed — a deep, unguarded sound that made something warm stir in her chest.

“Next!” the barista called.

Elena stepped forward, grateful for the interruption. She ordered her latte, feeling his presence just behind her, close enough that she caught a faint trace of his cologne — woodsy, clean, distracting.

When she turned, he was still watching her.

“Look,” he said, a touch hesitant now, “I feel like I should properly introduce myself before we crash into each other again. I’m Adrian.”

“Elena,” she said, her name sounding softer on her lips than usual.

“Nice to meet you, Elena.” He extended his hand like it was a business introduction, but his smile was anything but formal. She hesitated, then slipped her hand into his. Warmth spread instantly, startling her with its intensity.

They held the handshake a second too long before she pulled back.

The barista slid her drink across the counter. Elena grabbed it quickly, clutching the cup like armor.

“Well,” she said, searching for composure, “thanks for… not letting me fall on the sidewalk yesterday.”

“Anytime,” he replied smoothly. “Though maybe we should find a less dangerous way to meet next time.”

Elena opened her mouth, half a smile forming, but the words tangled. Next time. Did he mean that?

Her phone buzzed in her pocket — Priya reminding her not to be late again. Elena glanced at the screen, then back at Adrian.

“I should go,” she said reluctantly.

He nodded, though something flickered in his eyes, like he wanted to stop her. “Of course. Work calls.”

She took a step back, then another. But before she turned away fully, she heard him call after her.

“Hey, Elena?”

She looked back.

His smile returned, softer this time. “See you around.”

Her heart skipped. She walked out into the morning rush, the city alive with sound and motion, and for the second day in a row, she couldn’t wipe the stranger’s face from her mind.

That night, Elena sat cross-legged on her bed, sketchbook open in her lap. By day she was a junior designer at a marketing firm, endlessly revising clients’ requests. But by night, she let herself draw freely — lines and shapes that made sense only to her.

Yet tonight, her pencil kept betraying her. Instead of abstract patterns, she found herself sketching a profile — strong jawline, messy curls, an unreadable smile.

She groaned, snapping the book shut. “This is ridiculous,” she muttered.

A knock sounded at her door. “You talking to yourself again?” Priya’s voice was teased.

Elena rolled her eyes. “Go away.”

Priya peeked in anyway, holding a bowl of instant noodles. “Or… do you want to talk about the guy you met again today?”

Elena blinked. “How are you—”

“You have that look. The distracted, dreamy, totally busted look.” Priya grinned triumphantly. “So? Tell me everything.”

Elena tried to resist, but the memory of Adrian’s smile was too fresh. With a sigh, she confessed, “He was at the café this morning. We actually talked.”

Priya squealed, bouncing onto the bed. “Oh my God. This is fate. Do you realize how rare this is?”

“It’s not fate,” Elena insisted, though her voice lacked conviction. “It’s just a coincidence.”

Priya smirked. “Coincidence doesn’t make your cheeks turn that red.”

Elena buried her face in her pillow. “I’m not blushing.”

But she was.

Adrian lay awake that same night, the city lights spilling across his apartment walls. His day had been full — meetings

The week passed in fragments of routine — emails, deadlines, subway rides, coffee runs. Yet, beneath all of it, Elena carried an awareness she hadn’t felt before. The possibility of seeing Adrian again lingered at the edge of her thoughts like a song she couldn’t get out of her head.

On Wednesday morning, she found herself pausing at the café door, scanning the crowd before stepping inside. No sign of him. She told herself it was silly — she wasn’t waiting for him, not really. And yet disappointment tugged at her when the barista called her order and she left without catching that familiar gray-green gaze.

By Friday, she’d almost convinced herself it had been nothing. Two chance encounters in a city of millions. Nothing more.

Until she saw him again.

---

The marketing firm where Elena worked sat on the tenth floor of a glass building downtown. That afternoon, she stepped into the elevator, clutching a stack of presentation boards. Just before the doors closed, a hand slid in, holding them open.

Her breath caught.

Adrian.

He stepped inside, tall and composed, dressed in a crisp charcoal suit that made him look entirely different from the rain-damp stranger she’d met. His eyes widened in recognition, followed by a surprised grin.

“Elena.”

She nearly dropped the boards. “Adrian? What are you—”

“The law office on twelve,” he said, as if that explained everything. “I work there.”

Her brain scrambled. Of all the buildings in the city, of all the floors. He was two above hers.

“That’s… close,” she managed, heart thumping.

“Closer than I thought,” he said, voice warm with amusement.

The elevator hummed upward. For a moment, silence stretched between them, punctuated only by the ding of passing floors. Elena shifted her boards nervously, but Adrian broke the silence first.

“So… graphic design, right?” he asked.

She blinked. “How did you—”

He gestured to the boards. “Just a guess. You look like someone creative.”

Heat rose to her cheeks. “I work at Finch & Co. Marketing.”

He nodded. “I’ve heard of them. Good reputation.” Then, after a beat, “Makes sense. You have that… detail-oriented energy.”

She wasn’t sure if it was a compliment, but the way he said it made her chest tighten.

The elevator dinged. Tenth floor. She stepped out, turning back just as the doors began to close.

“See you around, Elena,” Adrian said, and she caught the flicker of a smile before he disappeared upward.

---

That night, Priya nearly screamed when Elena told her.

“He works two floors above you? Elena, this is basically the universe putting up a neon sign that says pay attention!”

“It’s still coincidence,” Elena protested, though her stomach told her otherwise.

Priya crossed her arms. “Coincidence doesn’t ride the same elevator.”

---

The following week, it kept happening.

A glimpse of him across the lobby. Passing by the café in the building, exchanging nods. Once, they ended up side by side at the security desk, signing in visitors.

Each time, the exchanges were brief, polite, but threaded with something heavier, like a current beneath the surface. Elena tried not to read into it. But she couldn’t ignore how her pulse always jumped when she spotted him.

One afternoon, as she gathered her things to leave, she found a folded note slipped under her sketchbook. For a moment, her heart stopped — but then she realized it was from Priya, who had visited earlier, scrawling Stop overthinking everything! in glitter pen.

Elena laughed, shaking her head. But when she caught herself doodling a familiar profile in the corner of the page, she knew Priya wasn’t entirely wrong.

---

Adrian, meanwhile, found himself lingering in the café a little longer each morning. He told himself it was the coffee. But deep down, he knew it wasn’t.

It was her.

The way she looked caught between confidence and hesitation, the spark in her smile when she forgot to be guarded. He didn’t know why a stranger lingered so vividly in his thoughts — only that he wanted to know her better.

And maybe, just maybe, the universe was giving him the chance.

---