Ali Arif arrived at the park a little early, leaning against the gate and watching the few stray clouds dissolve into the evening sky. His hair was still slightly messy from the wind, his lean frame wrapped in a hoodie that smelled faintly of coffee.
He spotted her instantly. Ayesha Rehman, 5 feet tall, long black hair tied loosely, round face framed by damp strands. Her black eyes scanned the park carefully, as if expecting someone to vanish.
"Hi," she said softly.
"Hi," Ali replied, his voice low. No theatrics, no sudden gestures—just presence.
They started walking along the paved path, their shoulders brushing occasionally. Neither spoke much at first; the silence was easy, like the pause between a deep breath and a sigh.
"Did your book survive the rain last month?" Ali asked finally, a teasing smile tugging at his lips.
Ayesha laughed lightly. "Barely. I almost threw it away, but it looked like it was begging for mercy."
He chuckled. "Books have feelings too, I guess. Some survive storms. Some don't."
She raised an eyebrow, smiling. "And which category do you fall into?"
Ali shrugged. "Survivor. For now."
The air between them was quiet but full, like a line of conversation they didn't need to speak out loud. They reached the small bookshop tucked behind the corner of the park, the one with tilted shelves and the faint scent of old paper.
Ali's eyes wandered over the stacks until he pulled out a worn novel. "This one hurts," he said, flipping it open and running his finger along the pages.
"Then why read it?" Ayesha asked, her head tilting curiously.
"Some pain teaches you where you're alive," he said simply, closing the book and handing it to her.
She took it, fingers brushing his briefly, and smiled. Not a big smile—just the small one that lingered in his mind long after she looked away.
They wandered through the aisles together, speaking softly about favorite passages, characters they loved, the ones who reminded them too much of themselves. Time passed unnoticed until the evening light dimmed and the shopkeeper's bell announced closing.
Outside, the park looked empty now. Ali and Ayesha walked slowly, their steps matching without planning.
When it was time to part, neither moved first. The air hung heavy with all the things they didn't say. Finally, she nodded, holding the book close.
"See you tomorrow?" Ali asked quietly.
She nodded, smiling faintly. "Tomorrow."
He watched her walk away, the rhythm of her steps imprinting itself on his mind. For the first time, the city felt smaller, quieter—like it existed only for that one brief connection.