Chapter 5 The Question of Fate

The café buzzed with the low murmur of conversation, the occasional hiss of the espresso machine punctuating the air. Mark leaned back in his chair, watching Emma as she absently traced the rim of her coffee cup with her fingertip. There was something about the way she carried herself-measured, precise, as if every movement had a purpose.

"So, tell me," Mark said, tilting his head slightly, "do you believe in fate?"

Emma raised an eyebrow, surprised by the question. "That's a little deep for a casual coffee, don't you think?"

Mark shrugged, a teasing glint in his eyes. "I don't do casual conversations. Occupational hazard."

Emma smirked. "Figures. But no, I don't think I do. Fate sounds like an excuse for people who don't want to take responsibility for their choices."

Mark chuckled. "Spoken like someone who's always in control."

She sipped her coffee, meeting his gaze over the rim. "And you? Are you one of those hopeless romantics who believes everything happens for a reason?"

Mark leaned forward, resting his arms on the table. "Not exactly. I believe in moments. You know, the kind that shift your path just a little. Maybe not fate, but... something close."

Emma hesitated. There was something disarming about the way he spoke-not just with confidence, but with conviction. "So, you think this"-she gestured between them-"is one of those moments?"**

Mark grinned. "Well, we have run into each other three times in one week. That's either fate or suspiciously good luck."

Emma laughed, shaking her head. "Or just bad weather and poor timing."

He smirked. "You're determined to take the romance out of it, aren't you?"

Emma shrugged, amusement flickering in her eyes. "I like logic."

"And I like a good story."

Their gazes locked for a beat longer than necessary. For a moment, the bustling café faded around them, leaving only the charged space between them. Emma wasn't sure what unsettled her more-the fact that Mark made her want to lean into the moment or the realization that she didn't entirely mind it.

She glanced at her watch. "I should go."

Mark nodded but didn't look away. "Will I see you again?"

Emma hesitated. She wasn't the kind of person who made room for distractions, but something about Mark felt different. "New York's a big city," she said playfully. "Chances are slim."

Mark smirked. "Yeah? I wouldn't bet against it."

As she walked out into the crisp air, she found herself smiling-just a little. And for the first time in a long time, Emma wondered if maybe, just maybe, some moments were meant to happen.