It was just another morning, but I liked mornings. There was something about the quiet walk to class with a coffee in hand that gave me time to think. Today, I was heading to my physics lecture, my favorite subject. It wasn't like I didn't enjoy this—I did. In fact, physics had always been what I wanted. The equations, the theories about how the universe worked—it was exactly what I had always imagined for myself. But that was really the thing. I had gotten everything I'd worked for, everything I thought I wanted.

So why did it feel like something was still missing?

The campus was alive with the usual buzz—students hurrying to their classes, groups of friends talking about last night's party. I was part of it, but also apart from it. Maybe that's what came with always having your head wrapped around cosmic mysteries. My friends thought I was crazy for being this into my major, but I didn't care. Physics had always made sense to me in ways life didn't.

There's something comforting about routine. A kind of rhythm that keeps the chaos of the world at bay. For me, that rhythm always started here, in this small corner café, with a steaming cup of coffee and a notebook open in front of me. It wasn't that I wrote anything profound—just notes, reminders, and the occasional half-drawn diagram of something I needed to remember for class. But it kept me grounded.

This morning was no different. The café buzzed with the soft hum of conversation, the clatter of cups, and the faint hiss of the espresso machine. I sat at my usual table by the window, sunlight filtering in, casting warm patterns across the page. I took a sip of my coffee, enjoying the familiar bitterness, and glanced up at the people walking in and out.

And that's when I saw her.

At first, she was just another face in the crowd—a woman weaving through the tables, her steps slow, deliberate. She didn't rush like the others, didn't seem preoccupied with a phone or a bag. There was something about her that made me pause, my hand lingering on the edge of my cup. Our eyes met briefly, just for a second, but in that second, something stirred inside me. A flicker of recognition, maybe. Or something else, something I couldn't quite name.

I shook the feeling off. Just a stranger, I told myself. Someone passing by. But even as I tried to focus on my notebook, my thoughts kept drifting back to her. I glanced at the entrance, half-expecting to see her again. But she was gone.

As I packed up my things and headed for the door, I saw her one more time. She was standing near the counter, her back to me, talking softly with the barista. I hesitated for a moment, wondering if I should say something, but then she turned slightly, her eyes catching mine once more. This time, she didn't smile or nod—just looked, like she was seeing something in me I couldn't see myself. And then she turned back to her conversation, and I walked out.

That should've been the end of it. Just another fleeting moment in a day full of them. But somehow, it wasn't.

A week later, I found myself in the library, buried in research for a paper. My usual spot by the tall windows was taken, so I ended up at a table in the back, surrounded by towering shelves of books that smelled faintly of dust and old paper. I'd been reading for hours, my brain buzzing with half-formed ideas, when I glanced up—and there she was again.

Sitting just a few tables away, half-hidden by the rows of books. This time, she was reading, her head bowed slightly, her dark hair falling over her shoulders. I stared for a moment longer than I should have, trying to place where I'd seen her before. The café, of course. But why did it feel like more than that? Like this wasn't just coincidence. Like I should know her.

She looked up then, her eyes meeting mine once more. This time, she smiled—a small, almost secretive smile. I blinked, caught off guard. She turned the page of her book and went back to reading, like nothing had happened.

I tried to focus on my work, but my thoughts kept drifting. Who was she? Why did I feel this strange pull toward her? I glanced back at her table, but now it was empty. She was gone. All that remained was the book she'd been reading, left behind on the table. Something about it drew me closer. I stood and walked over, my fingers brushing the worn cover. It was old, the kind of book you don't find in most libraries. I didn't open it. Instead, I left, the memory of her smile lingering long after I'd stepped outside.

It was a few days later, on a crisp autumn afternoon, that I saw her again. This time, in the park. I was walking, letting my mind wander after a long day of classes, when I spotted her sitting on a bench, staring out at the pond. She looked different in the sunlight—softer, almost serene. For a moment, I considered walking the other way, avoiding whatever strange encounter this might turn into.

But something pulled me forward.

As I approached, she glanced up, her eyes locking onto mine with that same unsettling familiarity. She didn't speak at first, just gestured to the empty spot on the bench beside her. I hesitated but sat down.

For a long while, neither of us spoke. I looked out at the pond, watching the ducks glide across the water. When she finally did speak, her voice was soft, barely more than a whisper.

"Do you ever think about choices?" she asked, still not looking at me.

"Choices?" I echoed, unsure where this conversation was going.

"Yeah," she said. "How one small decision can change everything. How the life you live now is just...one version of what it could be."

I frowned, glancing at her. "What do you mean?"

She turned to me then, her eyes searching mine. "Just think about it. How different things might be if you had made a different choice somewhere along the way."

I didn't know how to respond to that. It sounded philosophical, but something about the way she said it felt more personal. Like she knew something I didn't.

I stood up, the conversation making me uneasy. "I should go."

She smiled again, that same small smile. "I'll see you soon, Ryan."

I froze, my heart skipping a beat. I hadn't told her my name.

A few days later, I spotted her again—this time in the most unexpected place: my lecture hall. I was halfway through a class on advanced physics, taking notes on the professor's explanation of spacetime theories, when I saw her sitting in the back row. She wasn't supposed to be there. She wasn't a student. But there she was, watching me, not the professor.

The rest of the lecture passed in a blur. When it was over, I packed up quickly, determined to find out who she was. But as I turned to look for her, she was gone. I sighed, wondering if I'd imagined the whole thing. But then I noticed something in my notebook—a slip of paper that hadn't been there before.

Meet me where the world began to shift for you. You'll understand.

I stared at the words, a chill running down my spine. I didn't need to guess where she meant. The café. Of course.

I returned to the café that evening, feeling an odd mix of anticipation and dread. As I walked in, I saw her immediately, sitting at the same table where we'd first crossed paths. She looked up as I approached, her expression calm, expectant.

"Ryan," she said, her voice warm, familiar now.

"Evelyn," I replied, surprising myself by knowing her name without ever having heard it before.

She smiled, but there was a weight behind her eyes, something deeper than I could grasp.

"You have questions," she said, gesturing for me to sit.

I sat down, my mind racing. "Who are you? How do you know me?"

She looked at me for a long moment, as if deciding how much to say. "I'm someone who's seen the paths you haven't taken. Someone who knows what you'll become, what you might be." She paused, her voice softening. "But only if you choose to listen."

I frowned. "What are you talking about?"

Her eyes bore into mine. "What if everything you believe about your life isn't quite true?"

Before I could respond, she stood up, her movements fluid, as though she'd done this a thousand times before. "Think about it," she said softly. "I'll be seeing you."

And with that, she walked away, leaving me sitting there, more confused than ever, but unable to shake the feeling that my reality had already begun to shift.