IC

Y/N always laughed when people asked why she believed in signs. She believed some moments were sent to you before they happened—little glimpses of a future waiting to be lived. Adrian Hayes never believed in any of that. He believed in schedules, control, and never getting attached to anything he could lose. Love wasn’t in his plans. Neither was Y/N. They met on a summer trip neither of them wanted to take. She was spontaneous, loud, and impossible to ignore. He was distant, quiet, and impossible to read. Somehow, opposites became late-night conversations, shared sunsets, and hands that always found each other. But Adrian carried storms inside him. Whenever Y/N spoke about forever, he would smile without answering. Whenever she talked about dreams, he’d kiss her forehead and change the subject. He loved her—she knew that much—but fear made him keep one foot out the door. One afternoon, sitting by the ocean, Y/N pulled him close and pointed at the waves. “I can see the future,” she whispered. Adrian smirked. “Yeah? What do you see?” She looked at him, then at the little boy building castles in the sand beside them. “You,” she said softly. “Still next to me. A child with your eyes and my stubbornness. A life you were scared to want.” For the first time, Adrian didn’t laugh. Years later, on that same beach, their son ran between them with sandy hands and endless questions while the sea rolled in exactly the same.