There's a phrase in Japanese called "koi no yokan", and it speaks of a moment so gentle you could almost mistake it for nothing at all. It's when you meet someone and your heart quietly predicts that they're going to become someone meaningful in your life, there isn't lightning, no instant falling, no dramatic sparks flying, just a quiet, warm tug somewhere deep inside, like your heart is softly saying, "You're going to matter to me, I don't know how yet, but I can feel it." It's like your soul nudges you and whispers, "You're going to love this person eventually." Not today, not right now, but someday. It's the beginning before the beginning, like recognizing a melody you've never heard but somehow already know the next note to. It's the easy way conversation flows, or how their presence feels strangely familiar, like you've met them somewhere in a dream where everything was simpler. It's not love yet, it's the promise of love, the gentle outline of something that hasn't been colored in. And the beauty is that there's no pressure, no timeline, no grand theatrics. Just two paths quietly curving toward one another, slowly, naturally, as if the universe is nudging them closer, whispering, "Not now, but soon." It's the kind of feeling that doesn't need to shout to be heard; it simply exists. Such a gentle, inevitable kind of beauty, isn't it?