Whispers of fate

The forgotten sketchbook

One gray morning, Emily arrived at the café, her sketchbook missing. Panic clawed at her chest. Had she left it at home? Or worse, lost it forever? The sketches—their silent confessions—were her lifeline to Daniel.

As she sat by the window, a stranger approached. His eyes held a familiar sadness. “You dropped this,” he said, handing her the sketchbook. “I found it near the park.”

Emily’s heart raced. The stranger’s face blurred, and she saw only Daniel—the ink-stained writer who had become her muse. “Thank you,” she whispered. “You don’t know what this means.”