Lena and David stood in the dimly lit corner of the café, their fingers tracing the rim of their coffee cups. The air smelled of roasted beans and possibility. They'd been friends for years, but lately, something had shifted—a melody that lingered between them.
"David," Lena said, her voice soft. "We need a couples' song."
He raised an eyebrow. "A song? For us?"
She nodded. "Something that captures our story—the laughter, the late-night talks, the way you always know when I need a hug."
David leaned back, his eyes searching hers. "And what about the way you make me laugh, even when I'm drowning in deadlines?"
Lena's cheeks flushed. "Exactly. Our song should be like that—laughter and comfort wrapped in notes."
They sipped their coffee, lost in thought. The café's old jukebox sat in the corner, its neon lights flickering. David pointed. "Maybe we'll find it there."
Lena grinned. "Let's see."
They flipped through the jukebox's worn pages, their fingers brushing. David's touch sent shivers down Lena's spine. She cleared her throat. "How about 'Stardust'?"
He hummed the tune. "It's classic. But does it fit us?"
Lena leaned closer. "Remember that night at the beach? We lay on the sand, counting stars. You said we were made of stardust."
David's eyes softened. "And you said, 'Maybe that's why we're drawn to each other.'"
Lena's heart raced. "So, 'Stardust' it is?"
He nodded. "But let's dance to it first."
That evening, they stood on Lena's balcony—the city lights below, the stars above. David held her close, their feet swaying to the jukebox's melody. The song wrapped around them like a promise.
"Stardust," Lena whispered against his chest. "Our song."
David rested his chin on her head. "Forever."
And so, they danced—their laughter echoing through the night, their hearts singing. The city faded, leaving only the two of them—their past, their present, and the stardust of their future.
