The city had a way of feeling smaller once you noticed someone in it.
The next week, April found herself walking the same streets with a strange anticipation. Every café she passed, every bookstore window she lingered at, she half-expected to see him—Brandy.
She told herself it was silly. People didn't just appear twice in the rhythm of city life. But the thought lingered anyway, uninvited yet persistent.
It happened three days later.
April was in the bookstore two blocks from her office, her arms weighed down with novels she absolutely didn't need but couldn't resist. She was crouched in the fiction aisle, debating between two titles, when a familiar voice drifted down the row.
"You again?"
Her head snapped up. Brandy stood at the end of the aisle, leaning casually against the shelf. He wore a gray hoodie and jeans, his hair slightly messy, like he had just rolled out of bed. That same faint smile played on his lips.
"Brandy," she said, startled, then quickly composed herself. "Are you… following me?"
He chuckled, walking toward her. "If I say yes, would you call security?"
"Depends," she teased. "Are you dangerous?"
He crouched beside her, eyeing the books in her hands. "Only when provoked by overpriced coffee or bad novels."
April laughed, shaking her head. "Well, you're safe here. This place has neither."
They stayed crouched on the floor, flipping through covers and reading blurbs aloud to each other, mocking dramatic taglines and recommending favorites. April found herself more comfortable with him than she had expected. He wasn't trying to impress her; he was simply there, easy and present.
"You read a lot of romance," Brandy observed, tilting his head at the stack in her arms.
She flushed. "Guilty. They just… make me believe in something. You know, love, happy endings."
"And real life doesn't?" he asked softly.
April hesitated. "Real life is… complicated. Messy. Books make it simple."
Brandy studied her for a moment, his expression unreadable. Then he picked up a copy of a mystery novel from the shelf. "I like these. Stories where nothing is what it seems. Keeps you guessing."
"That figures," April teased. "You seem like the type who likes puzzles."
"Maybe," he admitted, smiling faintly. "Or maybe I just like surprises."
For a moment, their eyes lingered on each other, and April felt something shift—an undercurrent, subtle but undeniable. She quickly looked away, pretending to read the back of a book.
"Come on," Brandy said, standing and offering his hand. "Let's get out of here before we bankrupt ourselves."
At the café
They ended up at a small café near the bookstore, the kind with wooden tables and old jazz playing faintly in the background. April sipped her latte while Brandy drank black coffee, no sugar.
"So, April," he said, leaning back in his chair, "what do you actually do when you're not hoarding romance novels?"
She smiled. "I work at a design firm. Mostly graphic design, branding projects. It's creative, but sometimes… draining."
"Because of deadlines?"
"Because of people," she admitted, laughing softly. "Clients think they're designers too. It can be frustrating."
Brandy smirked. "I know the feeling. I'm in construction. Everyone thinks they're an architect once they've seen a YouTube video."
"Construction?" April tilted her head. "That's… unexpected."
"Why?"
"You just… don't look like the hard-hat type."
He chuckled. "Maybe that's because I'm not wearing one right now."
They both laughed, and the sound settled comfortably between them.
A Walk in the Park
After coffee, neither of them seemed eager to part ways. Brandy suggested a walk, and April agreed. They strolled through a nearby park, the ground still damp from the previous night's rain. Children ran across the grass, couples sat on benches, and the air smelled faintly of wet earth and blooming flowers.
April felt oddly at ease, as though she'd known him longer than a few scattered meetings.
"Do you always help strangers in cafés?" she asked playfully.
"Only the ones who nearly drown their books," Brandy replied. "Besides, you looked like you needed rescuing."
April rolled her eyes, smiling. "Well, thank you. Again."
They walked in silence for a while, but it wasn't uncomfortable. April found herself listening to the rhythm of his steps beside hers, steady and sure.
Finally, Brandy spoke, his voice quieter. "You remind me of someone I used to know."
April glanced at him, curious. "Good reminder or bad?"
He didn't answer right away. His gaze lingered on the path ahead. "Good. She was… someone who believed in happy endings too."
There was something in his tone, a shadow that hinted at loss. April didn't press. Some doors weren't meant to be forced open.
Instead, she said gently, "Maybe believing is what makes them possible."
Brandy looked at her then, and for the first time, April saw something vulnerable in his eyes.
The Goodbye
As the sun dipped low, they reached the edge of the park. April realized she didn't want the day to end, but she also knew it couldn't go on forever.
"I should head home," she said reluctantly.
Brandy nodded. "Yeah. Me too."
They stood there awkwardly, as though both waiting for something unsaid. Finally, Brandy broke the silence.
"April?"
"Yes?"
"I'm glad the rain made you spill your coffee."
She laughed, warmth blooming in her chest. "Me too."
They parted ways, but as April walked home, she couldn't wipe the smile from her face. The city felt smaller again, but in the best way possible.
That Night
April lay in bed, staring at the ceiling. She replayed the day in her mind—the bookstore, the café, the walk in the park. Brandy's laugh, his voice, the way his eyes softened when he looked at her.
It was too soon to call it anything. Too soon to label it, to hope too much. But deep down, she felt something she hadn't in a long time.
Possibility.
And maybe, just maybe, the beginning of something more.
Meanwhile
Brandy sat alone in his apartment, the glow of the city filtering through his blinds. He held a beer in one hand, staring at nothing in particular.
April's laughter echoed in his mind. Her belief in happy endings, her gentle teasing, her warmth.
It scared him, how easily she slipped past the walls he had built.
He told himself not to get too close. Not again. But the truth was undeniable.
She had already found her way in.