𝓣𝐇𝐄 𝐒𝐌𝐎𝐊𝐄 𝐁𝐄𝐓𝐖𝐄𝐄𝐍 𝐔𝐒, ˡᵒᵘⁱˢ ᵗᵒᵐˡⁱˢᵒⁿ

𝐈𝐗. 𝐎𝐔𝐓 𝐎𝐅 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐁𝐋𝐔𝐄

louis' pov

the restaurant was its usual self tonight—busy, noisy, and full of people who seemed to thrive on the chaos of the weekend. i was seated at a corner table with a few mates, trying to tune out the background clamor while catching up on the latest football scores. i was barely paying attention when i spotted her.

imogen.

cigarette thief.

she was sitting with her friend at a table across the room. it took me a moment to place her, but once i did, i couldn't look away. it felt like a jolt to the system, a reminder of how peculiar life could be.

there she was, wearing a black dress and a coat, looking completely at ease in the wintry cold. she had this way of bringing warmth into any room, even one as bustling as this.

i tried to shake off the feeling. what was it about her that made her stand out so much? i mean, i had seen her only a few times. once at the bar, then briefly when she had asked for a cigarette.

was this a sign or just a weird coincidence? whatever it was, it made my thoughts drift away from the game and more towards her.

i watched as she glanced over in my direction a few times. each time, our eyes met, and there was this strange, almost magnetic pull. it was hard to ignore. but what was i supposed to do? was i meant to go over and say something? or should i just leave it and avoid making things awkward?

i chose to stay where i was. it wasn't just about not wanting to make things uncomfortable; it was also about protecting her from the potential fallout of getting involved with me. the last thing i wanted was to drag her into my world of flashing cameras and relentless fans. she deserved to live her life without the added pressure and scrutiny that came with being linked to a famous singer.

i was acutely aware of how vicious and invasive the public could be, and the thought of her facing any of that because of me was a big no-go.

plus, it was clear she had her own life to live. i had seen her in an art studio before, surrounded by paints and canvases. she seemed like she had her own thing going on, and i didn't want to mess that up by inserting myself into it.

i assumed she was an artist from the few glimpses i'd had of her in her creative space. she had an aura of someone deeply immersed in their craft, someone who didn't need the complications of my celebrity lifestyle added to their plate.

my mates' conversations drifted in and out of focus as i tried to make sense of the situation. i found myself more interested in the way imogen interacted with her friend, her laughter carrying across the room.

she seemed so genuine, so full of light, and it made me wonder why i kept running into her. every time i saw her, it felt like i was stepping into a different part of my life, one that i didn't fully understand but couldn't ignore.

the moment she stood up to leave, i felt an unexpected pang of disappointment. it wasn't like i was hoping to see her again immediately or anything, but there was something about the way she carried herself that made me want to know more.  the way she seemed so at ease with herself and the world was captivating. and though it wasn't my place to intrude, i couldn't help but feel a bit upset that i might not get another chance to figure out what was going on with this peculiar sense of connection.

as she walked out, i considered following her for a moment, just to see where she was headed. but that would have been intrusive and far too much like stalking, which was the last thing i wanted to be.

instead, i stayed put, forcing myself to focus on the ongoing conversations at my table. i laughed and nodded along, but my mind was elsewhere, mulling over the encounters i'd had with her and what they might mean.

i knew this was probably just one of those weird coincidences that life threw at you now and then. after all, running into someone a few times didn't automatically mean there was a deeper connection or some grand cosmic plan.

it could just be a fluke, a series of random events that didn't add up to much. but there was something about her that made me question if maybe, just maybe, there was more to it than i was willing to admit.

i knew i could be a bit of a dick sometimes. the fame, the constant attention—it all made me jaded and sometimes cynical. it wasn't fair to let that side of me influence how i interacted with others. especially not someone like imogen, who seemed to radiate this positive, kind aura that was so rare and refreshing.

it struck me that i didn't want to be the kind of person who messed with her world. if anything, i wanted to preserve that sweetness she carried with her. she was so genuine and full of life, and i didn't want to be the reason she started feeling cynical or disillusioned.

the last thing she needed was to deal with the complications that came with being associated with someone famous. if i couldn't offer something good, something that wouldn't put her in a difficult position, then it was better to just leave things as they were.

getting into my car, i let out a long breath. i had a busy schedule ahead, and i needed to focus on that. but as i started the engine and drove away, i couldn't shake the feeling that this wasn't the last time i'd be thinking about her.

there was something about imogen that seemed to defy the usual patterns and expectations. maybe it was just a coincidence, or maybe it was something more. either way, i knew that whatever it was, i had to be cautious. she deserved better than to be just another headline or gossip fodder.

i spent the drive home reflecting on the night and what it meant. i wanted to believe that there was a reason behind all these encounters. but even if there wasn't, i had to respect the boundaries and not let my curiosity turn into something that could potentially harm her.

she deserved to keep her positivity intact, without the shadow of fame or unwanted attention looming over her.

pulling up to my place, i took one last look at the city lights before heading inside. my phone buzzed again, pulling me back to reality. it was another message from my manager, reminding me of the early session tomorrow. i sighed, letting the exhaustion of the day catch up with me.

as i climbed into bed, my thoughts wandered back to imogen. there was a part of me that hoped i'd see her again, but not in a way that would complicate things. i just wanted to keep that little bit of light she brought into my life and not be the reason it got dimmed.

maybe one day, the universe would sort out the mysteries of why we kept running into each other.

but just as i was about to drift off, one question kept circling in my mind: is fate really a thing?

ava speaks!!

im doing my english speech on if fate is real :)