It was late—past midnight. The city outside her window had hushed into that in-between hour where even the neon signs flickered sleepily.
Aira sat on her bed, sketchbook on her lap, phone in hand.
She never shared her art online. Not really. A few friends knew she drew, but she kept her sketches tucked away, private like diary entries only the moon was allowed to see.
But that night… something felt different.
She took a photo of one of her drawings—the one where he looked half-turned, like he was about to say something. Not perfect. Not polished. Just real.
She stared at it on her screen for a long time.
Then opened a barely-used account on an art-sharing platform and posted it with a simple caption:
"A face I saw once. But somehow, I keep meeting him in dreams."
No hashtags. No tags. Just that.
She closed her phone and didn't think twice. It felt like tossing a message in a bottle into the sea.
A way to let the feeling breathe outside her chest for once.
She didn't expect anyone to see it.
But a world away, a young photographer named Ravi was scrolling restlessly through his feed after a sleepless night. He didn't know what he was looking for, only that something inside him had been pulling lately.
And then… he stopped.
A sketch.
Of a man on a hillside, surrounded by fog.
A man that looked eerily—exactly—like him.
His heart froze.
Then thundered.
The caption hit harder than it should have.
"A face I saw once. But somehow, I keep meeting him in dreams."
He whispered aloud, stunned: "How could you know?"