Vihaan stood still, the note between his fingers, his heart beating louder than the festival drums echoing in the distance.
Myra.
It wasn't just a name. It was a feeling—something lodged deep inside him, something he couldn't explain. It stirred something restless within him, a pull towards someone he barely knew. Or… should have known?
"Vihaan? Dude, what's up?" Aryan's voice cut through his thoughts.
Vihaan exhaled sharply, crumpling the note in his palm. "Nothing. Just—thought I saw someone."
He didn't tell Aryan about the name. He wasn't sure why, but something about it felt too personal, too delicate to say out loud.
They left the festival soon after, but Vihaan's mind stayed behind, lingering on the flickering lanterns and the girl who disappeared—again.
A Second Encounter That Wasn't Coincidence
Days passed. Vihaan tried to push Myra's face out of his thoughts, but it was impossible. Every time he closed his eyes, he saw her standing under the golden glow of lanterns.
Then, fate—or something like it—decided to play its next move.
It was a regular afternoon at the bookstore where he worked part-time. The bell above the door chimed, signaling a customer. Vihaan glanced up from the counter, offering a half-hearted "Welcome," before returning to the book he was flipping through.
Then he heard her voice.
"Excuse me, do you have any recommendations for historical fiction?"
His head snapped up.
She was standing right in front of him.
For a moment, neither of them spoke. The air between them felt charged, like the moment before a storm.
"You—" Vihaan started.
"You?" Myra's eyebrows furrowed in confusion, then realization dawned on her face. "Wait, weren't you at the festival?"
Vihaan nodded, still processing the absurdity of it all. "And… at the café before that."
Her lips parted slightly as if she wanted to say something, but then she shook her head and let out a soft laugh. "This is weird, right?"
"You have no idea."
She hesitated, then smiled. "I'm Myra."
"I know," Vihaan said without thinking.
Her eyes widened slightly. "How—?"
Vihaan exhaled and held up the crumpled note from the festival. "You left this behind."
She blinked, taking the note from him, her fingers brushing against his. It was such a small touch, but it sent something electric through him.
For the first time, she looked at him differently. Not just as a stranger, but as someone she was starting to recognize, too.
"Vihaan, right?"
He raised an eyebrow. "How do you know my name?"
Myra frowned, as if she wasn't sure herself. "I… don't know. It just feels like I should."
They stared at each other, the weight of unspoken things settling between them.
Neither of them knew what was happening.
But they both felt it.