The announcement echoed across the airport lounge:

“Attention passengers, Flight 6E-421 to Delhi is delayed due to operational reasons. We regret the inconvenience.”

Sherlyn sighed, staring at the departure board that kept blinking with DELAYED in cruel red letters. She hated airports — not because of the rush, but because of the waiting. Waiting always reminded her of life, of all the things she never said, never did, never dared.

Clutching her coffee, she slid into an empty seat by Gate 27. People bustled around her: families juggling luggage, businessmen tapping on laptops, a toddler crying over a melted chocolate bar. The chaos was a blur — until her eyes met his.

He was sitting diagonally across, alone, with a paperback novel in hand. Tall, sharp features, the kind of face that looked like it carried too many stories. For a second, he looked up from his book, and their gazes locked. Just long enough to make her heart stutter.

Sherlyn looked away quickly, pretending to scroll through her phone. But she could feel it — the kind of silent awareness that hums between two people in the same space, pretending not to notice.

Minutes ticked by. She took another sip of her coffee. When she glanced up again, he was still watching her, a faint smile curving his lips as though he had caught her in the act.

Heat rushed to her cheeks. She shifted in her seat. Her instinct was to retreat, to hide behind her phone screen again — but something stopped her.

The delay stretched on, and so did the tension. It wasn’t awkward. It was… magnetic. Like the universe had set them both in this exact spot, at this exact moment.

Finally, he closed his book, leaned forward slightly, and said, his voice calm and deep:

“First time stuck at Gate 27?”

Sherlyn blinked, surprised he spoke. A small laugh escaped her lips.
“Feels like I’ve been stuck here all my life.”

Their conversation had begun.