I met her because of a wrong number.
One random Tuesday, my phone buzzed.
"Hey, are we still meeting at 7?"
I replied:
"Sorry, wrong person."
A few seconds later she texted back:
"Well, that's embarrassing."
Then:
"Since I've already embarrassed myself, how was your day?"
I should have ignored it.
Instead, I answered.
One conversation turned into two.
Two turned into a week.
A week turned into months.
We talked about everything.
Our dreams. Our fears. The people we'd lost.
Some nights we'd stay up until sunrise without realizing it.
The strange part?
We had never met.
She lived hundreds of miles away.
Everyone told me it wasn't real.
"You're in love with a phone screen."
Maybe they were right.
But every morning, her message was the first thing I looked for.
And every night, she was the last person I wanted to talk to.
After eleven months, we finally decided to meet.
I spent the entire train ride terrified.
What if there was no spark?
What if we had built a fantasy?
When I arrived, I saw her standing near the station entrance.
She looked just like her photos.
But somehow even better.
For a few seconds, neither of us moved.
Then she smiled.
The same smile I'd imagined a thousand times.
And suddenly every fear disappeared.
We spent the entire weekend together.
It felt like we'd known each other forever.
When it was time to leave, she hugged me and whispered:
"I'm glad you answered that text."
Two years later, I stood beside her in front of our family and friends.
As she walked down the aisle, I remembered that first message.
"Hey, are we still meeting at 7?"
She wasn't talking to me.
But somehow, she was exactly the person I was supposed to meet. ❤️