The man who knew her

Kaia Rossi never believed in fate. As a writer, she believed in facts and logic. the hard truth—nothing more, nothing less. but the night she met. Dante Smith everything she thought she knew unravelled like ink bleeding on wet paper.

It was a quiet night in Tokyo. the kind when neon lights hummed against rain soaked streets, and the air smelled of fresh ramen and distant cherry blossoms. Kaia had only stepped into the cafe to escape the downpour, shaking droplets from her cult when she noticed him.

Dante sat by the window sketching something in a worn notebook. His dark eyes flickered up for only a second, meeting hers with the briefest spark of recognition— except they've never met before.

 Or had they?

Kaia hesitated. Something about the way Dante pen moved across the paper fluid precise—made her curious. She ordered a coffee, taking a seat at a nearby table pretending not to watch him. But then he did something that made her breath catch.

Hehe turned the notebook slightly just enough for her to see the drawing

It was a sketch of her.

Her post quickened She was sure they had never met before and yet there. she was captured in perfect detail on his page— the waves of her hair, the small focus in her eyes, even the small scar on her wrist for my childhood accident.

She swallowed hard and forced herself to speak.

"Excuse me" she said, her voice steadier than she expected. "why are you drawing me??"

Dante blinked, seemingly startled. Then, after a pause, he closed the notebook carefully as if sealing away a secret.

"because I've seen you before," he said, his voice calm " in a dream."

Kaia's fingers tightened around her coffee cup. A dream? that was the kind of answer that belonged in mystery novels, not real life.

" That's not possible," she said, her voice firm. " we've never met."

Dante studied her for a moment, then exhaled as he had expected her reaction. he slid the notebook across the table, flipping back a few pages.

More sketches.

Each one was of her— different expressions, different places. in one she stood beneath cherry blossoms. in another, she gazed out at the ocean. but the strangest part? she recognised the settings. they were all places she had been, moment she had lived.

Her stomach tightened. How?

" I don't understand," she whispered.

Dante's eyes held hers. "Neither do I," He admitted. " but I've been drawing you for months, Kaia. Before I ever knew you existed"

Kaia felt a chill crawl up her spine. Her mind raced for a logical explanation, but there was none.

"Who are you?" she asked, her voice barely above a breath.

Dante hesitated, as if he wasn't sure how much to say. then, leaning in very slightly, he murmured:

"Someone who's been looking for you for a very long time."

Kaia's gript tightened around her coffee, her mind racing. looking for her? That was impossible. She was just a write-off from Rome, living an ordinary life. there was no reason for a stranger— especially one as enigmatic as Dante— to have been sketching her for months.

" I think you have the wrong person," she said, her voice steady despite the unease curling in her chest.

Dante shook his head slowly. " I don't think so."

Kaia's instinct scream that her to walk, to dismiss this bizarre coincidence. But another part of her— the part that's always chased the unknown, the father had led her to become a writer in the first place— refused to let it go.

" explain," she demand.

Dante exhaled tapping his fingers lightly against the notebook.

"I don't have all the answers," He admitted. all I know is that I started dreaming of you months ago. At first, I thought it was nothing— just random images. but then the dreams became more vivid. I saw you in places I'd never been, places I later found out were real. and every time I try to forget, my hands kept drawing you."

Kaia swallowed. This was crazy it had to be.

" you expect me to believe that?" she challenged.

Dante gave a small, almost amused smile. " well I don't expect anything. but you can't deny it, can you? these sketch us— these moments— I captured them before I saw you in real life. How do you explain that?"

She couldn't.

A flicker of doubt crossed her mind. Was it possible, it possible? Had they met before, some were buried in her depths of her memory?

" Where do we go from here?" she asked, surprising even herself.

Dante leaned in slightly, His voice low, deliberate. "That depends on you. But I have a feeling our story is just beginning."

Kaia stared at him, knowing that if she stood up and walked away, she could pretend this never happened. But something in her gut told her that meeting. Dante Smith wasn't a coincidence. it was a crossroads.

And she had never been one to walk away from a mystery.

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