The third time they crossed paths, Ava wasn't surprised. She had come to expect it now—the way he seemed to appear at moments when she least expected it, like a character stepping out of the pages of one of his own novels.
This time, it was at a bookshop. Ava had been thumbing through the shelves in the thriller section, searching for something to clear her mind, when his voice reached her.
"Looking for inspiration?"
She turned to find Alexander leaning casually against a nearby shelf, his expression one of mild amusement.
"You seem to have a habit of showing up wherever I am," she said, her tone sharper than she intended.
"Perhaps it's you who's following me," he countered smoothly, his eyes glinting with mischief.
Ava rolled her eyes, though a small part of her couldn't help but smile. "I doubt that."
He stepped closer, his presence filling the space between them. "What is it about thrillers that draws you, Ms. Harris? The mystery? The danger? Or is it the thrill of uncovering the truth?"
She met his gaze, refusing to back down. "Maybe it's all of the above."
Alexander tilted his head, as if considering her answer. "And have you ever found yourself in a story too dangerous to walk away from?"
The question hung in the air, heavy with meaning. Ava's mind flashed to their first meeting, to the unsettling feeling of being part of something she didn't fully understand.
"Not yet," she replied carefully.
His smile was faint, almost imperceptible. "Perhaps you will."
As he turned to leave, her curiosity got the better of her. "Alexander," she called out, surprising even herself with the sudden informality.
He paused, glancing over his shoulder.
"Why do you keep showing up?"
His expression didn't change, but there was a flicker of something in his eyes—an emotion too fleeting to name. "Perhaps," he said softly, "because some stories are meant to be shared."
And with that, he was gone again, leaving her with more questions than answers.