Romance Novel: The Trace of a Feeling

Chapter 3 – A Glimpse in the Crowd

A week passed, but Aruna remained nothing more than a fragment in Adrian’s mind, a fleeting shadow he couldn’t forget. He tried to fill his days with the usual rhythm — his work, his books, his coffee rituals — yet there was always a quiet void lingering behind every thought.

On a Saturday afternoon, one of his colleagues persuaded him to attend a local art exhibition. Adrian rarely went to such events, but something within him whispered he should. Perhaps distraction, perhaps instinct. The gallery was tucked into an old warehouse, its brick walls lined with canvases glowing under spotlights. The air buzzed with conversation, laughter, and the faint notes of live music.

Adrian moved quietly through the crowd, his hands in his coat pockets, eyes scanning the paintings but never truly settling. Until suddenly, he froze.

There she was.

Across the room, standing in front of a large watercolor piece, her head tilted slightly as if lost in thought. Her hair, now dry and soft around her shoulders, glimmered under the lights. She wore a simple navy dress, modest yet graceful, and in her hands was a small sketchbook she held as though it were part of her.

Adrian’s heart skipped. For a moment, he thought it must be an illusion, some cruel trick of longing. But no — it was her.

Gathering courage, he stepped closer. His steps felt heavier with each pace, his thoughts louder: What if she doesn’t remember me? What if she doesn’t want to?

When he was close enough, he spoke softly, almost afraid to disturb the space around her. “You like this one?”

Startled, she turned. Her eyes widened slightly, then softened with recognition. A smile tugged at her lips. “You…”

Adrian felt his chest ease, as though a weight had lifted. She remembered.

“Yes,” he said, his voice steadier now. “It seems the rain has brought us together again.”

Aruna laughed gently, the sound light, like the brush of wind. “I didn’t think I’d see you here. You don’t look like the type who goes to exhibitions.”

“You’d be right,” Adrian admitted, glancing briefly at the painting. “But I suppose today is different.”

They stood side by side, observing the artwork — a depiction of a woman walking in the rain, her umbrella tilted, her steps uncertain. The irony didn’t escape either of them.

Aruna turned slightly toward him. “I’m Aruna.”

Her name. Finally, it had a shape, a sound, a rhythm that settled into him like it belonged there.

“Adrian,” he replied, almost too quickly.

Her smile deepened. “It’s nice to properly meet you, Adrian.”

They began to talk, at first about the painting, then about the exhibition, and slowly the conversation stretched, spilling into fragments of their lives. Aruna told him she was an illustrator, working freelance, often finding inspiration in everyday life and fleeting moments. Adrian confessed he worked in publishing, though he admitted with a small smile that he preferred reading to dealing with manuscripts.

Time slipped by unnoticed. The crowded gallery faded around them, voices and laughter blurring into background noise. It was as though the world had quietly stepped aside to give them room.

Eventually, Aruna glanced at her watch. “I should go soon. Deadlines,” she said with a playful roll of her eyes.

Adrian felt the old hesitation rise, the same one that had silenced him before. But this time, he pushed past it. “Maybe… we could meet again? Over coffee. At the place where we first met.”

Aruna paused, considering. For a heartbeat, Adrian feared she would refuse. But then she nodded, her smile returning. “I’d like that.”

And just like that, something shifted again — this time not into silence, but into promise.

As Adrian watched her leave the gallery, his notebook pressed against his chest, he knew this was no longer chance. Their paths were meant to cross, and now, he would not let the moment slip away.