A LOVE WRITTEN IN THE STARS

A Love Written in the Stars

Sienna had always believed in fate. As a writer, she wove stories where soulmates found each other against all odds, where love was written in the stars, destined to bloom no matter the obstacles. But in her own life, love had been elusive, slipping through her fingers like sand.

That changed the night she met Adrian.

It was a rainy evening in New York City, and Sienna was sitting alone in a dimly lit café, lost in the world of her novel. The sound of rain tapping against the window was her favorite kind of music. She was working on a scene where the heroine met a mysterious stranger in a café—an ironic coincidence that she didn’t know would soon mirror her reality.

The door swung open, and a gust of wind followed a man inside. He was tall, with dark, tousled hair, and piercing blue eyes that scanned the café before settling on the empty seat across from her.

“Do you mind?” he asked, his voice smooth yet edged with exhaustion.

Sienna hesitated. She wasn’t in the habit of sharing her space with strangers, but something about him made her nod. “Go ahead.”

He sat down with a grateful sigh, setting a book on the table. Sienna’s curiosity piqued when she saw the title—one of her own novels.

“That’s a good one,” she commented before she could stop herself.

He chuckled, glancing at the book before looking back at her. “Yeah? You read it?”

Sienna bit her lip, debating whether to reveal the truth. Finally, she smiled. “You could say that.”

They started talking, first about books, then about life. Adrian was a travel photographer, always moving from one place to another, capturing the beauty of the world through his lens. He told her stories about the Northern Lights in Norway, the bustling streets of Tokyo, the quiet deserts of Morocco. Sienna, in turn, told him about her world of words, of creating places and emotions that existed only in imagination.

Hours passed, and the rain outside never let up, as if the universe was ensuring they stayed in that moment together.

When the café was about to close, Adrian glanced at his watch. “I should go,” he said reluctantly.

Sienna felt a pang of disappointment but nodded. “It was nice talking to you.”

He hesitated for a second before pulling out a pen. “Can I?” he gestured to her book.

She slid it over to him, and he wrote something on the last page before handing it back. “I hope we meet again, Sienna.”

Her breath caught. He knew who she was.

Before she could ask how, he was gone, disappearing into the rain.

That night, she flipped to the last page of her book and saw his note.

"Some stories aren’t written—they’re lived. I’d like to live one with you. – Adrian"

—

Days turned into weeks, and Sienna found herself unable to stop thinking about him. She looked for him in every café, every bookstore, hoping fate would intervene again.

Then, one evening, as she was leaving her publisher’s office, she saw something that made her heart stop.

A photograph, displayed in a gallery window.

It was a black-and-white image of a woman sitting in a café, lost in her writing.

Her.

Underneath, the caption read: “Some stories begin before we realize we’re in them.”

Sienna rushed inside the gallery, her pulse racing. She scanned the crowd and then—there he was.

Adrian stood by the window, hands in his pockets, watching her with the same intensity as the night they met.

“You found me,” he murmured as she approached.

She exhaled a breath she didn’t realize she’d been holding. “You left me clues.”

He smiled. “I was hoping you’d follow them.”

For the first time in a long time, Sienna felt like she wasn’t just writing a love story.

She was living one.