He had left earlier—she saw him go, probably for the afternoon prayer. And even though a part of her wanted to follow, to wait by the garden path again, she stayed put. She had a chapter to revise. Deadlines loomed.
But then—sitting still at her table, pen paused mid-sentence—something in her shifted.
It wasn't a thought. It was a feeling.
Go now, it said.
And so she did. Not hurried, but drawn. She picked up her phone, slipped out of her seat, and walked toward the window again, her eyes searching.
And there he was.
At the exact moment she arrived, he was walking back. His pace unhurried, head slightly bowed, hands in his pockets. He didn't see her. She barely moved.
But the timing—it made her believe in something. Maybe not fate. But maybe a softness in the universe that noticed her noticing.