The food court smelled like desperation and deep-fried regret, but Julian seemed undeterred. He led Maya to a corner booth at a half-empty burger place, plopping down like this was the highlight of his day.

  She ordered a salad. He ordered chili fries with extra cheese.

  “You sure you’re not trying to impress me with that gourmet palate?” she teased.

  Julian smirked, scooping a messy bite. “I only impress in concert.”

  Maya chuckled, surprised by how quickly the tension she usually wore had faded. With Julian, there was no expectation, no pressure to be “on.” Just two strangers in the limbo of a rainstorm.

  “So,” he said, licking cheese from his thumb, “Maya the Architect. Big firm or rebellious freelancer?”

  “Rebellious with bills,” she said, popping the lid off her salad. “I work for a mid-size firm in Manhattan, but I’m trying to break into something more…mine.”

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  “Is that what the pitch in San Francisco is for?”

  “Yeah. It’s a sustainable housing concept I’ve been working on for two years. If they fund it, I finally get to design something that means something.”

  Julian leaned in, fascinated. “That’s kind of amazing. Building things that outlast you.”

  “What about you? You said indie musician. Touring the world in a van?”

  He laughed. “Used to. Now I book smaller venues and try not to eat instant noodles every day. My band broke up last year. Now it’s just me and my guitar and whatever crowd’s willing to listen.”

  Something flickered behind his words—loss, maybe. Maya knew that tone.

  “You ever think about quitting?” she asked softly.

  He looked down. “Every day. But then I write a song that makes someone cry in the third row, and suddenly… it’s worth it again.”

  She nodded. “I get that.”

  Their eyes met, holding for a second too long. Something unspoken settled between them—a shared understanding of chasing dreams that felt just out of reach.

  An announcement crackled over the intercom. Their flight had been officially canceled. Groans erupted around them.

  Julian sighed. “Well. Looks like we’ve got a longer night ahead.”

  Maya hesitated. She should’ve been frustrated, but instead, she felt something unexpected—relief.

  “I know a place down the terminal that has decent wine,” she said, standing.

  He grabbed his guitar and followed. “Lead the way, Maya the Architect.”