Under the glow of a crescent moon, Anya wandered into the bookstore she passed every day but never entered. Among the worn shelves, a handwritten note slipped out of an old poetry book: "If you found this, we were destined to meet. I’ll be here every Saturday at 6 PM—Rowan." Intrigued, she returned the following Saturday, heart pounding.
At 6 PM sharp, Rowan appeared—a stranger with paint-splattered hands and an infectious grin. He explained his weekly ritual of leaving notes in books, hoping to find someone who believed in fate. Anya laughed, admitting she never had until now.
They spent hours wandering the aisles, swapping favorite verses and stories. As months turned into years, the bookstore became their haven. On one quiet evening, under the same crescent moon, Rowan proposed in their favorite aisle, slipping a ring into another poetry book, where their story had begun.
