Two people who keep ending up “across from each other” - same train, same café, same late-night scroll feed. They feel like they’re supposed to connect, like some invisible thread pulls them together. But they’re not perfect soulmates. They miss each other’s calls, get in their own heads, and hurt each other sometimes. The story asks: what if “connected” doesn’t mean perfect? What if it means choosing to reach out even after you’ve drifted apart?