The next morning, the city felt different, like it was holding its breath. The sun barely made it through the smog, but even the weak light seemed sharper somehow, more aware. I tried to focus on my beads, sorting colors and patterns, but my hands felt slower than usual. My mind kept drifting back to him,the man from yesterday, the one who had stopped without asking for anything, whose gaze had lingered just long enough to make me feel… off-balance.
I told myself it was nothing. Just a man passing by. Just coincidence. I was used to ignoring people like him. Powerful men usually didn't notice me, or if they did, they ignored me completely. And yet, even now, I couldn't shake the memory of his calm, deliberate voice.
By the time I reached my usual corner, the street was starting to wake. Shouts and laughter mixed with the constant hum of the city. Regular customers moved between stalls, picking at goods, chatting with vendors. I laid out my beads carefully, straightening the cloth and arranging each bracelet. My fingers lingered a little too long on my favorite black-and-gold piece, and I realized my heart was already racing.
Then I saw him.
He was standing across the street, leaning casually against a lamppost. My stomach tightened, and for a moment, I froze. I tried to look calm, like I always did. He looked exactly the same as yesterday,impeccable suit, careful posture,but there was something different in the way he watched me now, patient and quiet, like he was waiting for me to make the first move.
He started walking toward me, moving through the crowd like he belonged to the city itself. When he stopped in front of my stall, his presence was so still, so deliberate, that I felt exposed under his gaze.
"Your work is beautiful," he said quietly, nodding toward the bracelets. "The colors… the way they catch the light. It's precise."
"Thank you," I said, keeping my voice steady. "I put a lot of care into them."
He looked at me, really looked, and then picked up a bracelet. He held it gently, as if it were fragile. "I can tell. It's rare to see someone so committed."
I shrugged, trying not to overthink it. "It's my livelihood. I like making them right."
He studied me for a long moment. "And yet, you seem cautious."
"I have my reasons," I said softly, not sure why I was explaining myself to him.
He nodded slowly, like he understood more than he should. "I appreciate honesty."
For a moment, it was just us. The noise of the street faded, and I could almost forget everyone else around me. I felt nervous and a little thrill of something I didn't recognize.
"I'll leave you to your work," he said after a pause, setting the bracelet back gently on the cloth. "But we will meet again. There's more I want to see… more I want to understand."
And then he walked away, disappearing into the crowd. I stared down at the beads in my hands, feeling my pulse race. My mind kept replaying the way he had looked at me, the way he had spoken, calm but deliberate, leaving an echo I couldn't shake.
I didn't know his name. I didn't know why he had come back. But I knew one thing: something about him had started a spark I couldn't ignore. And I had no idea how far it would reach.