One night, Aria slept deeply and dreamed of a road bathed in sunlight.
Her hand was locked with a man's — warm, steady, familiar. They walked as if the world had paused just for them.
He was tall, with a sharp jawline and gentle eyes, the kind of man novels described as perfect. They laughed easily, their shadows stretching across the road. At a small café, they sat across from each other, sipping coffee, sunlight spilling through the windows. Aria smiled in her sleep, her lips parting as if she could taste the moment.
Then the alarm rang.
The sound tore through the dream. Aria startled awake, her heart racing. She groaned, scratching her head. "Does this alarm really have to ring now… uh," she murmured, then laughed softly, covering her eyes. The dream clung to her even as she sat up.
All day, fragments of it followed her — the warmth of his hand, the way he looked at her. That night, as she ate dinner, she caught herself smiling again, wishing she could return to it.
She went to bed early, heart light with anticipation. But sleep resisted her. When it finally came, the alarm rang again at dawn, cruel and sharp.
The next night, exhaustion pulled her under.
This time, the dream continued.
Aria stepped out of the café with him, the evening glowing gold. They rode a bicycle together — she sat behind him, arms wrapped around his waist, her cheek resting against his back. His warmth felt real. Too real. He turned, smiling shyly as the breeze tangled their hair.
When they reached a quiet street, he stopped the bicycle. "I'll pick you up from your office tomorrow at 3 p.m.," he said gently. "Wait for me."
She nodded eagerly.
He pinched her cheeks, kissed her forehead, and laughed when she hid her face against his chest. His hand patted her head as if he had done it a hundred times before.
When the sun rose, Aria woke up smiling.
Her energy was bright, her face glowing even before she washed it. She dressed for work with a strange happiness humming under her skin. At lunch, while she ate in the cafeteria, a girl from reception approached her, chuckling.
"Aria, your boyfriend came to see you. He's waiting downstairs."
Aria froze mid-bite.
"My… what?" she coughed. "I don't have a boyfriend."
The girl laughed knowingly. "There's no need to hide it. He's so handsome. Even if you fought, don't make him wait." She walked away, blushing.
Confusion tightened Aria's chest. She hurried downstairs, her footsteps uneven, her heart beating faster with every step.
She scanned the lobby.
Then someone called her name.
"Aria."
She turned.
The man from her dream was standing there.
The same face. The same height. The same soft smile.
For a moment, she convinced herself she was mistaken — that this was someone else. But he walked toward her, gently knocked on her forehead with his knuckles, and laughed.
"Why are you zoning out?" he said. "I came at the time I told you. Come, let's go."
He took her hand.
His touch was warm.
Real.
Aria blinked rapidly, her heart pounding so loudly it hurt. Fear crept in, slow and cold, beneath the flutter in her chest.
How…
How did he step out of my dream?
She looked at his hand around hers.
And for the first time, she wondered —
Had she dreamed of him…
Or had he been waiting for her to wake up?