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Saturdays were your favourite. It's a sweet reprieve from the weekday hustle and bustle and is your time to kick back, unwind, and indulge in a bit of freedom without the looming spectre of work. But this Saturday in particular wasn’t quite the respite you had hoped for. Lately, work has been more demanding of your time and it honestly was getting exhausting. Even the usual picturesque English town, where the buildings are quaint and the atmosphere is steeped with history, no longer soothes you.
Earlier this morning, you received an email with the subject “Friendly Reminder” from your editor, Cressida, regarding an upcoming deadline for an article that you’re currently working on a recent relic discovery. Knowing her bluntness, you were sure the content would be anything but— which only adds up to the already piled up pressure.
You could’ve made better progress if the archeologist you were supposed to interview didn’t reschedule. Again. For the second time. The first cancellation had been a minor inconvenience. You’d managed to adjust, shuffling your deadlines and taking it in stride. However, when the second request for rescheduling came in, it felt like a relentless barrier to your progress.
His insight is crucial. Without him, you might as well write nothing. But your precious time was not going to be wasted on grousing over some nerd boomer.
You’re still determined to salvage the day, so you decided to head to the local café. Upon entering, you were greeted by the warm, inviting aroma of freshly brewed coffee and the soft murmur of conversations. After ordering your usual, you chose a long communal table and sat on the corner.
As you settled in, you opened the draft of your article on your laptop, while a notebook lay ready for you to scribble any spontaneous notes or inspirations. The cursor blinked at you, almost mockingly, but you were in the zone, deeply immersed in crafting your drafts and preparing insightful questions, that the world outside was nothing but a mere meaningless blank canvas.
Your head was running like a bullet train until a voice broke through your concentration.
"Excuse me, do you mind if I share this table?"
Looking up, you were met with a warm smile from a handsome stranger.
Handsome was an understatement, this man was gorgeous. He had those brown eyes that were so mesmerising they felt like earth after a summer rain. The kind that you wouldn't mind getting lost in.
And his smile— God, his smile— felt like a sudden burst of sunlight through a stormy sky, stealing the air from your lungs and leaving you momentarily breathless.
You knew that exactly because you realised that you had been staring at him for one second too long and your chest was desperate for air.
You quickly gathered your scattered thoughts and motioned toward the empty seat opposite you. "Not at all, please, go ahead," you replied, trying to hide your surprise at the interruption.
The stranger settled into the chair across from you, sipping his coffee casually. He had a book in hand. You tried your best to focus on your own task, but you couldn't help glancing up every once in a while.
There was something strangely familiar about him. It was like stumbling upon a character from a half-remembered dream, someone you couldn't fully place but felt a curious connection to.
Every single of your brain cells were trying so hard to gather your scattering focus to get back to work. You tried to scribble some words on your notebook but your thoughts were getting blurry and the only thing crystal clear was the image of the man sitting in front of you.
“You work for BBC?” He suddenly asked and he could tell that you looked confused so he had to clarify with a small gorgeous smile tugged on his lips, “Your pen. I assume you work there or have stolen it.”
“Oh.” You blinked and gave away a small smile, “Both, actually. I lost mine and took it from an annoying colleague.”
“Ah.. justified.” He replied playfully.
There had to be something wrong with your brain because you couldn’t think of a single comeback. Forget wit, you could’ve said anything casual like a normal person would but nothing came out. Being critical and creative were the reason your mouth was fed and yet you’re speechless in his presence.
Some hand of desperation was tugging inside you to have this conversation going and like a weird interrelation you sensed that he must’ve felt the same way because then he continued, “Are you on telly, then?” There was a genuine spark of interest in his question.
“No, I’m a feature writer.” You politely corrected him, “I write for History.”
“My apologies.” There was a momentary pause before he continued, "You know, I read this incredible story on there a couple of months ago about some marine archaeologists discovering an alleged Viking shipwreck off the coast of Ireland. It was so vivid and immersive—I think the writer really nailed it."
"Yeah, I remember that one," you confessed, feeling a touch of bashfulness colour your cheeks, "I actually wrote that piece.”
“No way.” He sounded pleasantly surprised but not in a dramatic kind of way. Like he expected you to be great— like he somehow already knew you, “Though, at first I suspected that it was a Mediaeval ship rather than a Viking when I saw a picture of the rudder. Such maritime technology was known later in the time period, not Viking.”
You smiled in disbelief for his astute observation, “It is Mediaeval. They posted their final report recently.”
“Well, it's always nice to know that you are right.” He grinned.
“What are you? A history enthusiast?””
“Something like that.”
“Oh really?” You sounded slightly surprised by guessing correctly, ”What’s caught your eye recently?”
He shrugged, “There’s this relic found in a catacombs in Scotland.”
Your heart beat a single loud thud it echoed to your brain. You tried to mask the shock with a nod and contemplated slightly on the coincidence. But something must be written all over your face because he asked, “Something wrong?”
“Oh, nothing– it’s just a really funny coincidence.”
“What is?”
“I actually have an interview with someone at the museum about said relics on Monday.” You confessed reluctantly.
There was a pause.
“Monday, 11 AM?”
You were a bit thrown off by his knowledge of your schedule, but you didn't want to make assumptions. “..yes. How do you know?”
“Because I, too , have an interview on Monday at 11 AM with a reporter from BBC about said relics.” A playful smile tugged on the corner of his lips, “I mean— feature writer .”
Your eyes widened when the realisation dawned on you. The man sitting in front of you—relaxed, casual, and sipping his coffee—was not just some history enthusiast, he’s a history expert and more specifically the very person you had been cursing in your head for the past couple of weeks.
The coincidence was almost too perfect.
“ You’re Dr. Sebastian Sallow?”
“Nice to meet you.” He charmingly said, before taking a sip of his coffee.
Your mouth gaped open slightly trying to find the right words to say to him but you were too bewildered by the figure in front of you.
“I-i’m sorry I just didn’t expect you to look so..” — Handsome? Charming? Astoundingly stunning? Drop-dead gorgeous? Hunky? — “..young.”
Thank God something appropriate actually came out of your mouth.
He chuckled and set down his coffee, “I get that a lot. I suppose the hazard of this job is people expecting all of us to look like we’re withering away.”
“I guess I did picture someone more slumpy with white hair.” You felt the initial shock begin to melt away as you tittered at his attempt to lighten up the mood, “This is quite a pleasant surprise, Dr. Sallow.”
“Oh please, just Sebastian would suffice.” He waved you off, “It bothers me when people call me Doctor outside of the museum. That title means something else entirely to most of the people here and I don’t want anyone suffering a heart attack expecting me to help them and all I have with me is my humidity control equipment.”
“Fair enough. Just Sebastian.” You joked.
And he laughed at the lamest jest a woman could ever throw.
This man is handsome, has a great sense of humour, and humble. You’ve only met him for a few minutes and he’s already ticking a lot of boxes.
Sebastian leaned back in his chair, still grinning. "But if I’m just Sebastian, you can’t be just a feature writer either. We’re both at a disadvantage then."
His eyes locked with yours with that playful glimmer in them. And again, you found yourself at a loss for what to say. You were used to being in control of a conversation, but Sebastian’s easy charm had thrown you off-kilter.
"You’re not going to withhold your name because of some rule of journalistic ethics, are you?"
Sebastian's grin grew wider as he watched you struggle to come up with a response. You were flustered, and he seemed to be relishing the situation a little too much.
Truly, you couldn't shake the feeling that there was something about him that you just couldn't put your finger on. Something pleasant, definitely. The way he spoke, the way your banters flow so naturally, and even the way he smiled—all of it had an air of comfortable familiarity that put you at ease.
"Well?" He prompted, still waiting for your answer.
You blinked, realising you had been silent for too long. You could feel a blush spreading on your cheeks. You introduced yourself, your name rolling off his tongue in a way that sounded almost musical. And there it was, that odd sense of familiarity you had felt earlier, a touch of déjà vu that had caught you off guard. The sound of your name on Sebastian's lips, the way he repeated it, testing the syllables.. it sounds just.
But strangely, you didn't mind. In fact, you almost revelled in it. Sebastian's gaze met yours, holding it just a moment too long. That flicker of recognition in his eyes mirrored your own. You felt that strange comfort again, as if he understood whatever you’re feeling, too.
“I do apologise for the delays. I had to attend to some urgent matter.”
“Oh, please, it’s alright.” Lie. That was an absolute lie.
“Since the museum is literally across the street, do you want to have a look? I could show you around and perhaps give you a headstart for the interview.” He suggested, “I could at least try to make up for the delay. If I’m not interrupting anything, of course.”
The offer to view the relics early was certainly tempting, especially knowing the pressure you were under to meet the deadline. But if you could be honest, getting to spend more time with Sebastian was what sold you.. His easy-going nature was refreshing, and the banter was already so much better than any interview you’ve had.
“I suppose a little preview can’t hurt.” You agreed, a smile tugging at your lips. “Lead the way, Dr— er, Sebastian.”
The museum stood majestically across the street, an elegant building that exuded an aura of history and mystery. Instead of leading you to the usual main entrance, Sebastian guided you through a small side entrance, known only to museum staff and researchers.
He held the door open for you, a gentlemanly gesture that warmed your heart just a little more. The hallway was quiet, with the stillness broken only by the soft sound of your footsteps on the tiled floor. Sebastian led you towards a door at the end of the corridor.
As he pushed open the door, it revealed a wide room that looked more like a combination of a lab and an office space. There were shelves lined with various tools, equipment, and all sorts of items that you assume were historical artefacts, were placed all over.
You glanced at the relics spread out on the lab equipment and you couldn’t help but feel a sense of awe. There was something intimate and profound about having access to history in such a raw and unadulterated state. You were used to writing articles about historical events and interviewing people in the field, but this was different.
This was a peek behind the curtain, an up-close-and-personal experience unlike anything you had ever had before. It reminded you of the time your parents took you to a sweet shop.
Sebastian noticed your wide-eyed wonder and smiled, "It's something, isn't it? This is where the real magic happens. Each artefact here has a story waiting to be uncovered."
You nodded, still taking in the scene. "It's incredible.”
He led you further and you followed behind him, "This is where we carefully study, preserve, and sometimes even restore pieces of history. It's a meticulous process, but incredibly rewarding."
He pointed to a workbench where a delicate, ornate vase was being examined. "For example, this vase was found in a burial site in Wales. It's over a thousand years old, and we're trying to learn more about the culture that created it."
“The detail is astonishing.” You marvelled at its intricate patterns and delicate craftsmanship, a testament to the skill of its maker.
Sebastian was clearly amused by your reaction as the smile painted on his face was as wide as yours.
He then guided you to another section of the lab, where a different artefact lay under soft lighting, carefully displayed on a padded surface. It was a small, ornately decorated bronze mirror, its reflective surface dulled with age but still faintly gleaming.
"This," Sebastian said, "is another fascinating piece. It's a Celtic mirror, also found around the area where we found the vase and it dates back to around the same period. Mirrors like this one were not just utilitarian objects but it also held significant cultural and spiritual value."
Your eyes trailed along the other tables. The beauty of these items were clearly overwhelming and to be surrounded by such rich history was an amazing feeling.
Amongst the collections, your eyes faltered into an object that appeared to be some sort of cane. The wood of the shaft looked like a well polished ebony with a brass handle and it looked relatively new compared to some of the others that were certainly ancient.
Curiosity piqued, you turned to Sebastian and asked, "What about this one? It’s so beautiful. How does it look so well-preserved, though? How old is it?"
Sebastian’s eyes were a little bit flustered. He carefully lifted it from its display stand. "Ah, this one is actually younger than us."
You blinked in surprise. "Huh? What do you mean?"
He smiled, holding the cane carefully. "I just got it from a shop down at the market. It’s for my roommate. He’s blind."
“Oh.” Well, that’s not embarrassing at all.
A few pieces later, you eventually circled back to the purpose of your visit: the relic you were meant to be writing about.
It was an ancient, intricately carved triangular piece, rumoured to have ties to a long-lost civilisation. The designs were rather suspicious and eerie which Sebastian later explained that some people believed it was used for some sort of dark magic ritual.
At that point you don’t know what was more beautiful, the way he captivated you with his eloquence or the way his eyes sparkled with so much passion in what he’s doing.
It wasn’t just his knowledge that drew you in— it was the way he made you feel connected to the past, to something greater than yourself. His presence was magnetic, and you found yourself wanting to know more—not just about the relic, but about him.
His smile, when he caught your gaze, was warm and genuine. It made your heart flutter in a way you hadn’t expected. It’s so magical you were practically spellbound. You realised that you were no longer interested in the story you were here to write but you were way more enthralled by the man who was telling it.
When the formalities of your interview were completed, Sebastian suggested showing you a special place within the museum. Intrigued, you agreed. He led you through a series of winding corridors, past exhibits and storage rooms, until you arrived at a small, unmarked door. He unlocked it with a key he retrieved from his pocket, and you both stepped inside.
The room was a hidden gem, unlike any other part of the museum. It was a spacious atrium with a glass ceiling, allowing the evening light to filter through and bathe the room in a soft, golden glow. It’s an indoor garden that gives off a serene, almost magical atmosphere. In the centre of the room was a small fountain, the gentle sound of trickling water adding to the tranquillity
He led you to an alcove that overlooked a small pond. You leaned against the railing while Sebastian shared anecdotes about his childhood, his inspirations, and the journey that led him to become a historian. He mentioned that his twin sister, who had recently overcome cancer, was under his sole care, which was his reason for rescheduling your meeting a couple of times.
The more he opened up to you, the more familiar he felt. Despite hearing his stories for the first time, none of it felt foreign. Each laugh, each sigh, and each heartfelt revelation came with a comforting rhythm between the two of you. It made the evening feel like an unfolding chapter of a story you were always meant to be a part of in a strange yet pleasant way possible.
It was in this context that you found yourself unable to shake the feeling that there was something more to your connection.
“I’ve been meaning to ask this,” you said, a hint of hesitation in your voice, “have we met before?”
Sebastian smiled and shook his head, “I don’t think so. Why do you ask?”
“I don’t know, I just— I don’t know how to explain it but this entire day has been feeling like a—” Your head was searching for the right word but Sebastian managed to find it for you.
“Like a déjà vu?”
“Exactly.” You said softly, “Like a déjà vu.”
Sebastian hummed in agreement, his eyes studying your face intently. It was as if he too, was trying to decipher the strange familiarity that seemed to linger between the two of you.
“So you’re feeling the same way?”
“Yeah.”
There was an extended silence, allowing the both of you to get lost in your thoughts.
"I’ve been trying to figure out why this day feels so surreal. Meeting you, the sound of your name, even the way everything is unfolding—it’s like it’s part of a story I already know." He confessed, “Like this was some forgotten history written some time ago and when I look at you.. something in me recognises you. It’s like we’re supposed to know each other somehow.”
He managed to articulate exactly what you were feeling. Then he moved closer to you, “Do you believe in destiny, by any chance?"
A smile tugged at the corner of your lips as Sebastian posed the question. You've never been one to believe in destiny—or fate for that matter. But something about this situation, this moment, seemed to defy all rules and logic.
“Not usually, no. I’m more of a taking-my-own-chances kind of woman.” You replied truthfully, ”Do you?”
“I’m not sure,” He admitted while his eyes never left yours. “But I do believe in probabilities. Do you know why?”
You swallowed hard, your heart now hammering against your ribcage with increasing speed.
“No,” You whispered, your voice suddenly sounding very small, “Why?”
“Probabilities are often tied to the idea of potentiality and the nature of existence. It’s about the likelihood of certain outcomes based on a series of events and choices that can lead us to moments that feel almost destined.” He began, “Some theories believe that these events might interact and create an infinite number of new realities.”
As he spoke, his fingers lightly touched your resting arm.
“Essentially, you could be the archeologist and I am the writer. Or you could be a hero and I could be a wizard.” He took another step closer, “In this vast expanse of parallel realities, there is a probability that our choices might have led us to cross paths. And perhaps in some of those realities, we already have.”
No matter how many possibilities there were, you knew there was only one outcome you truly wished for.
“What’s the probability of us meeting today in this version of reality, then?”
“If we consider the vastness of all possible outcomes and the nearly infinite number of parallel realities, the chance of us meeting today in this particular one— I’d say almost impossible.” His fingers continued to lightly trace your arm, “And yet here we are, having this conversation. I guess despite that infinitesimal probability, something extraordinary has happened.”
You hummed, “I guess no amount of parallel universes or alternative realities can account for the fact that sometimes–some people –are meant to be.”
“I thought you’re more of a taking your own chances kind of woman.”
You leaned in closer until you could feel his breath on your skin. He was now so close, you could count the eyelashes framing his brown eyes and the freckles that decorate his skin, “Well, I’m taking my chances now.”
Finally, you closed the final gap and met him in a kiss that felt like a culmination of those infinite possibilities. Sebastian's arms wrapped around you, pulling you closer as the kiss deepened. You were acutely aware of every sensation: the taste of his lips, the firmness of his hold against you, the heat of his body against yours.
You didn’t know what you had expected of his kiss. Merely hours ago, you never knew Sebastian existed and yet his touch on your lips felt as familiar as a cherished memory. There was a warmth and a tenderness in his kiss that spoke of a connection far deeper than the short time you had known each other.
It was not like any other kiss you’ve ever experienced. Not a single word in the dictionary can come close in describing the overwhelming splash you feel throughout your entire body. This man— this stranger— was kissing you back, and you were certain that everything felt perfectly right.
When you finally pulled back, you both were breathless, faces inches apart, foreheads touching and his eyes were still locked onto yours.
“Kissing a woman I just met in the coffee shop today was definitely not on my list.” He admitted
You smiled, feeling a warmth spread through you that had nothing to do with the room’s temperature. “Me, too. But I’m glad it happened.”
You both stood there for a moment longer, savouring the intimacy of the shared space and the connection that had formed between you. As you continued sharing the moment, Sebastian still had his arms wrapped around you until eventually, you both knew it was time to leave. But he didn’t want to let go and neither did you.
“You know,” He began, “Since we’ve practically had the interview. What if we go out for brunch, let’s say, Monday 11 AM?”
“Yeah? And what’s next?”
“Hmm, we could have a walk? Have dinner some time after? Or perhaps we could make out in some other places?”
Your laughter came out light and carefree. Sebastian had to mentally take a note of his new favourite music, “All of the above, please. I don’t want any of it to end.”
“Neither do I,” His eyes softened as he looked at you, “Or we could keep taking chances and see where it takes us?”
“Sounds perfect.” You leaned in once again to give a final kiss on his lips.