It was a rainy Tuesday afternoon when Emma boarded the bus. She was soaked, her umbrella flipped inside out in the wind, and her mood matched the weather. As she stepped onto the crowded bus, she scanned the sea of passengers, hoping to find an empty seat.
There was one next to a man in his early thirties, his eyes buried in a book. She hesitated for a moment, unsure if she should disturb him. But with a resigned sigh, she took the seat beside him.
The bus lurched forward, and a few drops of water splashed onto her coat. She mumbled a quiet apology to the man beside her, expecting no reply. But to her surprise, he looked up from his book and smiled, a warm, easy smile that seemed out of place on such a dreary day.
"No worries," he said, his voice soft yet reassuring. "It’s that kind of weather today."
Emma smiled back, feeling the tension in her shoulders ease. She glanced at the book in his hands. "What are you reading?" she asked, a hint of curiosity in her tone.
He looked down, surprised at the question. "Oh, it’s just a mystery novel. Nothing exciting," he replied modestly. "But I guess, everything feels a little more interesting when it's rainy outside."
She laughed softly. "True. Everything feels a bit... more dramatic when it rains."
They both looked out the window for a moment, the world outside blurring into a watercolor of gray. Then, Emma found herself asking, almost without thinking, "Do you believe in coincidences?"
The man raised an eyebrow, intrigued. "I don't know. Why?"
"I mean," she continued, "how do we end up on the same bus, at the same time, when everything seems to be going wrong? It feels like there’s some purpose behind it, even if we don’t understand it."
He thought for a moment, then smiled again, a little more knowingly this time. "Maybe it’s just two people finding a bit of warmth on a cold, rainy day," he said.
Emma felt a sudden flutter in her chest. It was the simplicity of his words—of this moment—that made her heart skip. She wasn’t sure what it was about him. Maybe it was the way he saw the world, or the fact that he’d smiled at her when no one else would. Or maybe it was simply because, in that brief moment, they had shared something unexpected.
The bus turned a corner, jolting them both slightly. Without thinking, he reached out, steadying her with a gentle hand on her arm. She looked at him, and he looked back, a silent understanding passing between them.
When her stop came, Emma stood up, feeling an unfamiliar pull in her chest. "It was nice talking to you," she said, her voice soft.
He nodded. "Same here."
As she walked down the bus aisle and the doors slid open, she glanced back at him. He was already looking at her, his smile warm again.
The rain hadn’t stopped, but somehow, it didn’t matter anymore.
