Begin Again

 The brick-laden paradise that was New Greenwich overtook my vision. For the

first time in a long time, I had butterflies in my stomach; I was excited to see what the

future awaited. I had just graduated from college; anything could happen. I closed the

door to my apartment and took in the summertime —the bustle of the city hummed with

possibility.

I looked down at my phone, and the picture of a curly-headed girl and a tall boy

with a goofy grin stared back at me. A familiar pang settled in my chest. June’s hair flew

all over the place after Mom snapped the picture.

A bitter-sweet feeling came over me as I remembered that summer’s day, the

day I lost my first love and my best friend.

I turned off my phone and kept walking down the concrete sidewalks of New

Greenwich. The shadows of the trees formed the beautiful shapes of the leaves. I loved

New York in September. The lack of tourists, the summer heat, and the people walking

out and about gave the city a quiet life that you just can’t get during any other season.

The air was thick with late-summer heat, and I wandered into my favorite

bookstore, killing time—something I’d had too much of lately. I mindlessly perused my

favorite sections to see if anything caught my eye. I noticed an opalescent-colored

journal.

“Okay, that definitely doesn’t belong there,” I thought to myself. I crouched down

to grab the journal, but someone on the other side got a hold of it first.

“Woah-Sorry,” A voice exclaimed.

“No worries, the color caught my eye, that’s all,” I said.

“I know it’s beautiful,” the woman said, examining the book, almost entranced by

its unique color.

Before I could get another word out, the woman disappeared from the other side

of the bookcase and reappeared by my side. For the first time, I took all of her in. She

had beautiful, long, wavy hair and a face that seemed almost timeless, like she could be

an actress in an old Hollywood film.

“Oh wow, you’re taller than I expected,” she said in such a casual tone, as if we

had known each other for years instead of the mere strangers we really were.

My brain stalled. “Uh—thanks?”

She laughed. “Not sure why I said that. Sorry, sometimes I just talk.”

“That makes two of us,” I admitted.

She grinned and extended her hand. “I’m Sienna.”

“Theo.” Her hand felt soft and warm, and the smoothness of her skin contrasted

with the chilly air inside the bookstore. Through our touch, I could sense the steady

rhythm of her pulse, and for a second, my heart skipped a beat. As we let go of each

other, she looked at her watch and muttered a curse.

“I have to go, but it was nice meeting you, Theo.”

Part of me wished I asked for her number. My fingers twitched at my sides like I was

stopping myself from reaching something I couldn’t quite grasp. But then a familiar

weight settled in my chest- a pull tight and unforgiving. The memory of her, the only

woman I had ever loved, was sudden yet hazy, like a dream that just kept holding on.

My stomach twisted in knots. Three years, and I still couldn’t tell if I was meant to keep

holding on to her- to us. I swallowed hard, shoving my hands in my pockets, and I left

the bookstore.

As my feet carried me down the street, past the quiet hum of the city, the smell

of freshly brewed coffee pulled me into a cafe that I hadn’t seen before. Bellamy’s. The

sign read out in elegant golden letters. This seemed like the kind of place people came

to disappear into their own world- students hunched over with their laptops, older

couples sharing pastries without a word, strangers entranced by the pages of their

books.

And then I saw her.

The sun made the purple in her hair glow beautifully as she sat by the window,

quietly sipping on her coffee while reading the opalescent journal she had bought. Every

few seconds, she would glance around the cafe, almost as if she were waiting for

someone.

She glanced at her phone, and something shifted in her expression. Not dramatic—just

a small pause, a flicker of disappointment before she locked the screen.

A bad date. Maybe. Or maybe I was just projecting.

I could keep walking. Pretend I didn’t see her.

Instead, I walked up to her. “So… did you end up buying it?”

Her head snapped up, and her brown eyes widened in surprise before recognition

softened her features.

“You again,” she said, lips curving into a smile.

“Me again.”

We both spoke at the same time.

“It must be fate.”

“What a coincidence.”

“Oh,” I said with a nervous chuckle.

She laughed. Not polite or restrained, just amused, like she actually meant it.

“Oh, I like you,” she said, leaning back. “A skeptic, huh?”

“Let’s just say I’m not in the habit of assigning cosmic meaning to chance

encounters.”

She tilted her head, studying me. “And yet… here we are.”

She gestured to the empty seat across from her.

I hesitated. Not because I didn’t want to sit—God, I wanted to sit—but because a

part of me wondered what I was doing. Three years. I had made a habit of walking away

from moments like this.

But maybe Sienna wasn’t a coincidence.

I pulled out the chair. “Alright. Enlighten me,”

I said, sitting down. “Why must it be fate? Sienna smiled over the rim of her

coffee cup, eyes sparkling with something I couldn’t quite name yet.

“Well, for one—you’re here, aren’t you?”

I scoffed, shaking my head. “That’s just geography.”

“Geography?” She raised an eyebrow, amused.

“Yes. I live in this city. This café happens to be here. Statistically speaking,

running into you again isn’t exactly divine intervention.”

She hummed, pretending to consider it. “And yet, in a city of eight million people,

you just happened to find yourself standing right here, right now, talking to me. Sounds

a little convenient, don’t you think?”

I leaned back; arms crossed. “It’s just probability.”

“Or” she countered, “maybe you were supposed to find me.”

I narrowed my eyes playfully. “You’re one of those people, aren’t you? The type

that thinks every coincidence is the universe winking at them.”

She gasped, dramatically clutching her chest. “How dare you call me out like

that.”

I smirked. “Let me guess—you read your horoscope every morning.”

“Not every morning.”

“You probably have an app.”

“…Maybe.”

I bit back a laugh. “So, you admit it.”

She peeked at me through her fingers, voice muffled. “Fine. I like astrology. It’s

fun. And I happen to think fate is real.” She sat up, straightening her shoulders. “What

about you? What do you believe in?”

I took a slow sip of my coffee, considering. “Science. Logic. Randomness.”

“Wow,” she deadpanned. “So romantic.”

I set my cup down. “You want romance? Here’s a thought: Maybe I’m not here

because of fate. Maybe I’m here because I saw you, and I made a choice to sit down.”

For the first time, Sienna hesitated. A flicker of something crossed her

face—surprise, curiosity, maybe even intrigue.

“A choice,” she echoed.

I nodded. “Maybe that’s all life really is. A series of choices.”

She leaned forward, resting her chin on her hand. “That’s a nice theory. But what

if—just for argument’s sake—some choices are nudged along by fate? Like… maybe

we were always meant to end up here, at this exact moment, but we just had to take the

right turns to get here.”

I shook my head with a chuckle. “You really don’t give up, do you?”

She grinned. “Nope. So, tell me, Science Guy—if we meet again after this, will

you still call it a coincidence?”

“That depends.”

“On what?”

I met her gaze, holding it this time. “On whether or not you believe in second

chances.”

Her smile faltered, just for a second. Then, with a slight, knowing smirk, she

picked up her coffee and took a slow sip.

“Guess we’ll have to find out.”

Sienna set her cup down, tapping a finger against the rim as if weighing her next

words. “Okay, Mr. Probability, let’s test your theory.”

I raised an eyebrow. “My theory?”

She leaned in slightly, voice low, conspiratorial. “Let’s say we leave this up to

chance—no numbers exchange—no plans made. If we run into each other

again—somewhere unexpected—then you have to admit I’m right. That fate exists.” A

slow smirk tugged at my lips. “And if we don’t?”

“Then you win,” she said simply, “and I’ll never bring up fate again.”

I considered her offer, pretending to debate, even though I already knew my

answer. “So, let me get this straight—you’re gambling on the universe?”

“Call it an experiment,” she countered.

I exhaled a quiet laugh, shaking my head. “Alright. Deal.”

Sienna extended her hand again, palm up. I took it without hesitation, her fingers

curling around mine in a firm shake.

“See you when fate decides,” she said, standing.

I watched as she grabbed her bag, threw on her coat, and headed for the door.

She didn’t look back, yet as she disappeared into the city, I found myself

wondering—not about fate but about choices. I wanted to believe in both for the first

time in three years.