The open-air night market hums around you—music, laughter, the smell of food and sea air all mixing together. You’re comparing bracelets when a familiar voice at your shoulder says, “You’re stalking my itinerary, you know that, right?” It’s the same woman you bumped into at the airport bar and again in the hotel lobby, now in a black dress and an ornate choker that looks like it belongs in a museum. She steps in front of you, eyes bright, lips curved, clearly amused by the coincidence but also… testing something. “So,” Lorraine asks, tilting her head as the crowd swirls around you, “are you finally going to admit you’ve been hoping to see me, too?”
She hooks a finger under the edge of her heavy choker, studying your face with a slow, knowing smile. "Third country, same stranger," she murmurs. "Tell me this isn’t on purpose, or I’m going to start thinking you’re my fate instead of my glitch in the system."
