Unexpected turns

“I know, I’m on my way. Got delayed for a minute.”
Liam balanced the phone between his shoulder and ear as he maneuvered through light traffic—careless, yes, and nearly catastrophic. He’d almost hit someone. A woman. Not just anyone, either.
Someone charming.
The image of her flashed in his mind, vivid and unshakable. He didn’t have to dig deep to recall her face because it had branded itself into his memory the moment their eyes had met. His lips curled into an involuntary smile.
When the car screeched to a halt, he’d seen her clearly, her startled expression, her mouth forming words that slipped past him like water over stone. He blinked, finally registering her apology. But his thoughts had lingered on her features.
She’d been in a rush, and the close call was as much his fault as hers. He should’ve apologized too.
Should’ve gotten out. Said something. Anything.
Asked her why she looked so... captivating. Yummy was the word that first popped into his mind, but even that felt too juvenile, too flat for what she stirred in him. She wasn’t dressed provocatively—her dress was modest—but something about her presence was magnetic, sensual in the subtlest way.
He should’ve asked her name, maybe her number. But she was gone before he could act, disappearing into a taxi like she was never there.
And now he couldn’t stop thinking about her.
He ran a hand through his hair, frustrated. Why the hell am I thinking about some stranger? I have Anisha.
Or did he?
Anisha had been in his life for as long as he could remember—his confidante, his comfort, especially after his mother passed. She’d been there during the lowest point in his life, when grief hollowed him out and left him doubting his purpose.
His mother had always believed in him. She was the one who saw the artist in him when no one else did. He remembered the way she used to watch him paint, her eyes full of wonder every time he mixed new colors on a palette. She would smile at his smallest sketches like they were masterpieces, always patient, always proud.
When his father dismissed art as a “waste of time,” his mother’s voice had been the only one keeping him grounded. She'd sit for hours beside him, offering gentle critiques, her faith never faltering. But his father’s words had cut deep, leaving scars that still whispered in the back of Liam’s mind. Grow up. Get serious. Stop chasing fantasies. The man had never understood him—never tried to. He only ever believed in numbers. Stocks. Profit margins. Success measured by wealth.
Anisha had filled the space his mother left behind. They’d grown up together, attended the same schools, and somewhere between friendship and familiarity, love—or something like it, had grown.
Her family is wealthy, well-respected, but she’d never flaunted it in front of him. With Anisha, he’d always felt safe. Grounded. Seen.
She had been a balm for his wound. Her loyalty, her calming presence, it was what he needed, what he thought he wanted. Their relationship had evolved slowly, naturally, from shared memories of childhood to the steady companionship of adulthood.
But the spark… it had faded. He just hadn’t admitted it out loud.
And yet, in one fleeting encounter with a stranger, everything tilted off balance. Because she—the woman he almost hit, she had something else. A quiet allure that made the world pause. The kind of presence that made you forget your own name.
The familiarity he shared with Anisha suddenly felt... muted. Background noise to the volume of this new emotion rising inside him.
He shook his head, forcing his focus back to the road. Still, her image lingered.
The sign for Wick’s Diner came into view, and relief washed over him. Familiarity. Comfort. He pulled into the parking lot and spotted John already seated inside, waving lazily through the window.
Sliding into the booth across from his friend, Liam gave a half-hearted smile.
“What delayed you, sire?" John teased, his grin smug.
Liam shook his head. “You don’t want to know.”
John leaned forward, grinning wider. “Now I definitely want to know.”
Liam hesitated, then sighed. “I almost ran someone over.”
John’s grin faltered. “Wait—seriously?”
Liam nodded. “She came out of nowhere.”
John stared for a beat, then cracked a crooked smile. “Well, thank goodness you didn’t. I don’t think Anisha would enjoy bailing you out of jail.”
Liam gave a weak chuckle. “Yeah, well. Let’s just say I’m glad I didn’t.”
John leaned back, smug. “Anyway, this one’s on you. I’m the one leaving the country, remember?”
“Yes, General,” Liam said with a mock salute.
A waitress approached with a notepad. “Welcome to Wick’s Diner, gentlemen. What can I get for you?”
 “I’ll have scrambled eggs and bacon,” John said. “Coffee too, please.”
She nodded, then turned to Liam.
And everything stopped.
His breath caught in his throat. It was her.
She stood there, polite and composed, not showing a flicker of recognition.
He just stared.
John noticed and stepped in with a laugh. “Sorry about my friend here—he’s a little out of it today.”
Liam blinked, scrambling for words. “Yeah, sorry. I’ll have what he’s having.”
“Great choice,” she said, smiling. “I’ll get that in for you.”
John watched her go, then turned back to Liam, eyebrows raised.
“Okay. Spill it.”
“That’s her,” Liam said quietly.
“Her who?”
“The woman I almost hit.”
John’s eyes widened. “No way.”
Liam nodded. “Same face. Same dress.”
“Well damn,” John said, letting out a low whistle. “That’s a plot twist.
Liam leaned back in his seat, rubbing his temple. “I can’t stop thinking about her. It’s like… I don’t know. I barely saw her, but I feel like I know her.”
John snorted. “Dude. You’re so whipped, and not even by your girlfriend.”
“Not funny,” Liam muttered.
“She doesn’t know you almost ran her over,” John said with a shrug. “Your windows are tinted. You’re safe.”
Liam looked down at the table, unsure whether that was comforting or disappointing.
As their food arrived, Liam kept sneaking glances at the waitress—at Sam, her nametag read. She moved with practiced grace, chatting with customers like she belonged in that world. Warm. Effortless. Uncomplicated.
And Liam couldn’t stop watching her.
After the meal, he threw more than enough money on the table and stood. John was already waiting by the door. Liam followed, but just before stepping outside, he glanced back one last time. She was laughing with a customer, unaware of the way she’d upended his morning.
Liam’s expression shifted—softened into something almost like longing. He didn’t know what it meant. But he knew he wanted to see her again.