The café smelled of freshly brewed coffee and warm vanilla, the kind of scent that instantly made you feel at home. Sunlight filtered through the large windows, casting golden patterns on the wooden floors. It was quiet, peaceful—except for the soft hum of conversation and the gentle clinking of cups.
I sat at a small table, staring down at a cappuccino that I didn’t remember ordering. A sense of familiarity washed over me, though I had never been to this café before. Then, I saw him.
He sat across the room, a man with deep, thoughtful eyes and a quiet confidence that drew me in. His presence felt… right. As if I had known him forever. He noticed me staring and smiled. Without hesitation, he stood, picked up his coffee, and walked toward me.
“Mind if I join you?” His voice was warm, comforting.
I nodded, my heart inexplicably racing. “Of course.”
We talked for what felt like hours. Everything about him was familiar—his laugh, the way he tilted his head when he listened, the way his fingers absentmindedly traced the rim of his cup. It was as if we had met in another life, destined to find each other again.
“This feels like a dream,” I murmured, half-laughing.
He smiled, but there was something sad in his eyes. “Maybe it is.”
The room flickered. Just for a second, like static on a screen. I blinked. The café was still there, the smell of coffee still in the air, but something felt… off.
“I don’t want to wake up,” I whispered, suddenly terrified.
His hand covered mine. It was warm, solid. “You have to.”
The world flickered again, the golden sunlight turning harsh and white. The sound of beeping replaced the hum of conversation. I gasped, suddenly weightless, like I was falling—
And then, I woke up.
Bright lights. The sterile scent of antiseptic. A rhythmic beeping sound. My body felt heavy, restrained. I turned my head, my vision hazy. Straps held me down to a hospital gurney. Panic surged through me.
“Hey, hey, it’s okay.” A soft voice, calm and familiar.
I turned my head and froze. It was him. The man from the café. Standing beside my bed, in a white coat, a stethoscope around his neck.
I opened my mouth, but no words came out.
He smiled gently, like he had been expecting this. “You’ve been in a coma for two weeks,” he explained. “A car accident. But you’re awake now.”
Tears burned in my eyes as the reality of it hit me. The café, the dream—it had felt so real. And him… how was this possible?
“Rest,” he said, squeezing my hand lightly. “You’ve been through a lot.”
As exhaustion pulled me back under, I realized something: maybe dreams aren’t just dreams after all. Maybe, somehow, we were always meant to meet.
