Maya spent the next morning convincing herself she had imagined most of what happened. The delivery, the note, the way her stomach flipped—it all felt too unreal for someone like her. Things didn’t happen “romantically accidental” in her life. They happened “mostly inconvenient.”

She brushed her teeth, tied her hair into a ponytail, and told her reflection, “Today is normal. Nothing weird.”

The reflection didn’t believe her.

Her shift didn’t start until evening, so she walked to the small diner near her apartment. The place served breakfast all day and smelled like syrup that had been there since last summer. She chose a booth by the window, ordered pancakes, and tried not to think.

She failed.

Her mind kept drifting back to the ice pack box sitting on her kitchen counter. It wasn’t expensive or dramatic. It wasn’t the kind of gesture meant to impress. It was simple. Thoughtful. Specific.

And that made her anxious.

The waitress set down her plate. “Anything else?”

“A new brain?” Maya said.

The waitress blinked. “Uh… orange juice?”

“Yeah. That’s close enough.”

She ate slowly, checking her phone every few minutes like she was expecting something. She wasn’t. At least that’s what she told herself.

Around noon, she walked toward downtown. She needed fresh air more than anything. Rivergate City looked different in daylight—busy in a practical way, not chaotic. People walked fast with purpose. Cars honked for real reasons instead of drunken ones.

She passed a row of storefronts, paused at a cosmetics shop window, and stared at the display without really seeing it. Only when she noticed the brand name did she freeze.

Sterling & Co.

Evan’s company.

She immediately turned away like the window had insulted her.

“No,” she whispered. “No universe. Stop.”

She speed-walked down the sidewalk until she reached the small park near the river. She sat on a bench, opened her cold brew, and took a long drink. The breeze was cool, and for a moment, she actually relaxed.

Then a shadow fell over her.

“Do you always run away from store windows,” a familiar voice asked, “or was that special?”

She didn’t have to look up to know who it was.

She looked up anyway.

Evan stood in front of her, hands in his jacket pockets, amused but not smug. He looked like he had been walking without a plan, yet somehow found her again.

“You,” she said.

“Me.”

“Why?”

“I was passing by.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You don’t ‘pass by’ this area. You’d have to walk five blocks out of your way.”

He gave a small shrug. “Maybe I did.”

“Why?”

He sat at the other end of the bench, leaving space between them. “Wanted to make sure you got the package.”

“Oh my god,” she groaned. “You saw my bruises?”

“You almost got bruises,” he corrected. “I was being proactive.”

“No one is proactive like that.”

“I am.”

“That’s suspicious.”

He laughed softly, eyes on the river. “You think kindness is suspicious?”

“I think you’re confusing me.”

“That part might be true.”

She blinked. “Why would you admit that?”

“Because it’s accurate.”

Her heart did something unhelpful.

“So,” he said, nodding toward her coffee, “breakfast of champions again?”

“It’s noon.”

“Still counts.”

They sat quietly for a moment. Not awkward quiet—real quiet. Comfortable, even. It startled her more than anything else.

Evan leaned back. “Since we keep bumping into each other, maybe we should call it what it is.”

“A curse?” Maya said.

“A coincidence.”

“A coordinated coincidence?”

He laughed again. “No coordination. Just timing.”

She didn’t fully believe him, but she also didn’t want to push him away. She wasn’t used to people showing up without wanting something from her.

He stood. “Walk with me?”

“Where?”

“Just here. Along the river.”

“That’s not a destination.”

“That’s the point.”

She considered it. It felt dangerous, but not in the bad way. More like stepping into warm water without knowing how deep it was.

“Fine,” she said. “But if I trip, that’s on you.”

“I’ll take responsibility.”

They walked along the river path, keeping an easy pace. The water moved slowly, reflecting pieces of sky and buildings. Maya kept her hands in her hoodie pocket, trying very hard not to look at him more than necessary.

Evan didn’t push conversation, which surprised her. Most people filled silence like it was a hole. He let it exist, like it didn’t bother him.

After a minute, he spoke. “So what do you do on your days off?”

“Recover.”

“From work?”

“From life.”

He laughed under his breath. “Fair.”

She kicked a pebble off the path. “What about you?”

“Mostly work.”

“That sounds depressing.”

“It is sometimes. But I like it. There’s always something to fix.”

She glanced at him. “You look like someone who fixes too much.”

“That’s accurate.”

“At least you admit it.”

“I’ve learned it’s easier.”

Maya wasn’t used to someone who answered honestly without trying to impress her. It made her weirdly cautious.

They passed a group of joggers, a family with a stroller, a dog that barked at nothing. Maya kept glancing at the river to avoid staring at him.

“So,” he said, “how long have you lived in the city?”

“Since college.”

“You like it?”

“Some days.”

“And other days?”

“It’s… loud.”

He nodded. “Yeah. I get that.”

“You do?”

“Noise doesn’t always mean company.”

Something about that sentence made her chest tighten. She didn’t reply. Couldn’t. She didn’t want him to see too much.

They walked in silence again until Evan stopped near a railing overlooking the water.

“You always walk like you’re ready to run,” he said.

Maya blinked. “What does that mean?”

“It’s not bad. Just an observation.”

“Well… maybe I am ready to run.”

“From what?”

“Everything.”

He leaned on the railing. “You don’t look like someone who runs.”

“That’s because I’m not good at it,” she said. “But I still try.”

He didn’t laugh at that. He looked at her like he understood more than she wanted him to.

She shifted her weight, uncomfortable. “You’re doing it again.”

“Doing what?”

“That… looking.”

“How am I looking?”

“Like you’re trying to read me.”

“I’m not trying.”

“That’s worse.”

A small smile curved his mouth. “I’ll tone it down.”

“Please do.”

They continued walking until they reached the small bridge crossing the river. Maya stopped at the middle and leaned on the railing.

“You know,” she said, “if someone saw us right now, they’d think we planned this.”

“Would that be a bad thing?”

“Yes.”

He nodded slowly. “Okay. Then it’s unplanned.”

“Very.”

“Coincidental.”

She sighed. “Sure.”

He rested his arms on the railing next to her but didn’t lean too close.

“Maya.”

“What.”

“You don’t have to be scared of me.”

Her throat tightened. “I’m not scared.”

“You’re cautious.”

“That’s different.”

“Still part of the same category.”

She turned her head. “Why do you care?”

“Because I keep running into you, and every time I do, you act like something is about to go wrong.”

“Because something usually does.”

“Not always.”

“With me? Always.”

He shook his head once. “I don’t think that’s true.”

Before she could argue, her phone buzzed. Zoe again.

She glanced at the screen.

**pls tell me ur not doing anything stupid**

She quickly turned the phone face-down.

Evan raised an eyebrow. “Everything okay?”

“Yes. No. Maybe.”

“Which one?”

“Pick one.”

He didn’t push further.

They crossed the bridge and ended up on the quieter side of the river. Maya felt her shoulders loosen without meaning to.

“Alright,” she said. “I should head back. I have to get ready for work.”

Evan nodded. “I’ll walk you.”

“No. No walking.”

“Why?”

“Because then it looks like… walking.”

He blinked. “That is the definition of walking.”

“You know what I mean.”

He smiled, small and warm. “Okay. I’ll stay here.”

She nodded, turned, took three steps—

“Maya?”

She stopped but didn’t face him.

“What,” she said.

“Thanks for not running.”

She didn’t turn around.

But she did smile.