The city was loud that morning.
Jeepneys roared past like restless animals, vendors shouted over one another, and the sun hung low but bright, pressing warmth into the pavement. Elijah Cruz walked through it all like a ghost—headphones in, eyes fixed forward, life perfectly measured in steps and schedules.
Until someone crashed into him.
Hard.
"Ah—sorry! Sorry!" a voice said, breathless and bright.
Elijah stumbled back, nearly dropping the folder tucked under his arm. Papers fluttered to the ground like startled birds.
"I—I wasn't looking," the girl continued, already crouching to gather the pages. Her camera swung against her chest as she moved.
Elijah knelt too, their hands brushing as they reached for the same sheet. He froze.
So did she.
For half a second, the noise of the city faded. All he noticed was her—messy hair tied in a careless bun, sunlight catching in her eyes, the faint smell of coffee and something citrusy.
"Uh," she laughed softly. "Sorry again."
"It's fine," Elijah said quickly, pulling his hand back. "I should've been paying attention."
She smiled at him—wide and unguarded, like she smiled at the world every day.
"I'm Mira."
"Elijah."
They stood, awkward silence settling between them.
She handed him the last paper, her fingers lingering just a second longer than necessary.
"Architecture?" she asked, nodding at the folder.
"Yeah. Finals week."
"Yikes. Good luck surviving."
He almost smiled.
Almost.
"Well," she said, stepping back and lifting her camera. "Thanks for not yelling at me. Most people do."
"I don't really yell," Elijah replied.
She tilted her head. "That's kind of sad."
Before he could respond, she raised the camera and snapped a photo.
"Hey—!"
"Relax," she said, grinning. "You just have a very… 'main character walking through the city' vibe."
Elijah watched as she walked away, disappearing into the crowd like she belonged there—like the city itself had shaped her.
He told himself it was nothing.
Just an accident.
But that night, as the city lights blinked on one by one, Elijah found himself wondering what it would be like to live the way she did—unafraid of collisions.
Unafraid of love.