The minutes slipped by with an easy silence between them—neither awkward nor forced.
Shaam leaned against the bus stop pole, while Suhani sat on the bench, now holding the bookmark securely inside her book.
She wasn’t reading anymore. Instead, she looked up at him every so often, as if trying to figure him out.
“So…” Suhani broke the silence, her voice curious. “Do you always show up just in time to rescue bookmarks?”
Shaam chuckled. “Only when fate lines it up perfectly.”
“Fate, huh?” she smiled, tilting her head. “So you believe in that?”
“I think I’m starting to,” he said, surprising even himself.
Suhani laughed softly, and it was the kind of sound that made the air feel lighter.
“Well, Shaam, rescuer of bookmarks… what do you do when you’re not hanging out at bus stops?”
He shrugged, leaning a little closer. “Graphic designer. Freelance. So technically, I could be anywhere, anytime. What about you?”
“Teacher,” she said. “Second grade. My kids think I’m the coolest person alive because I do voices while reading stories.”
Shaam smiled wide. “That is cool. Do you do the evil witch voice too?”
“Oh, absolutely. And I go all out. There’s dramatic flair involved.” She held her book up like a prop and cleared her throat theatrically.
“Beware, children… for I am the Miss of Misplaced Homework!”
They both burst into laughter. It felt natural, like the kind of joy that bubbles up when two people instantly click.
Around them, other people came and went, buses rolled in and out, but the two of them stayed locked in their little moment.
Shaam noticed her watching him, her smile softer now. “You’re not from around here, are you?”
“Why do you say that?”
“You look like someone who's still learning to belong.”
Shaam blinked, taken aback by the accuracy. “You’re good at reading people.”
“I read more than just books,” Suhani said, a little mysteriously.
Their buses arrived at the same time, hissing to a stop with a mechanical sigh.
The moment felt like a crossroads. They both looked at their respective buses, then at each other.
“Well, this is mine,” she said, standing.
Shaam nodded, reluctantly stepping back. “Mine too… different direction though.”
Suhani hesitated, then reached into her bag, scribbled something on a page from a notepad, and tore it off.
“Just in case the wind isn’t so cooperative next time,” she said, handing him the note.
Shaam looked down. A number. A name. A little smiley face.
He looked up. “Suhani, huh?”
She winked. “Still believe in fate?”
Shaam grinned. “Absolutely.”
They boarded separate buses, but this time, it wasn’t the end of a random encounter.
It was the beginning of something quietly extraordinary.
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