Nine months - that's how long it had been since I'd been home. Nine months ago, in a haze of anger, witnessed by the rest of my colleagues thanks to the floor to ceiling glass that made up one side of the office, I had told my boss just where he could stick his job before being escorted out of the building by security.

I had worked in the same law firm since graduation. I had given them nearly a decade of my life but was being passed up for promotion because their loyalty lay with the boy's club. I was just a pretty face they thought they could pay off with a measly, and I mean measly, increase in my wage and an extra week of holiday. The rage was so intense that black spots had flooded my vision.

And the fury didn't dissipate until I got on a plane and left. I had declined my Dad's offer of taking a gap year when I was 18, wanting too badly to get into university and start my professional life. Now, I couldn't help but feel like I had missed out on a pivotal part of my life. Instead of discovering myself and being wild, I'd slogged my guts out and all it had gotten me was a patronising pat on the back.

The last nine months had seen me hop from country to country trying to figure out just what would fill the giant, gaping chasm that had ruptured my soul.

"Latte, s'il vous plaît. Is the terrace open today?" I asked as I got the counter in the cafe. The smell of coffee wrapped itself around my senses and coaxed the slumbering part of my brain further down the evolutionary timeline.

"Non, mademoiselle."

"Of course not," I muttered under my breath. I was handed my drink and slipped past the tables towards the windows at the front of the cafe to settle there.

It was the middle of October and early on a Sunday morning, which meant that the usual bustling cafe was quieter than usual. That was the whole reason I had dragged myself out of the apartment. A quiet morning of trying to sort my head out before the week began. The weather had taken a turn for the worse and I was the only one occupying the space as my coffee cooled in its mug. I took a deep drink and shuddered. It always failed to compare to Italy, and I found myself considering cutting my stay in France short just to continue my search in Sicily again.

But what exactly was I looking for?

It had taken leaving home for me to realise that I woke up every morning with a deep sense of dread and returned home with a deep sense of relief. Days had blended into months and my body uncoiled and released the tension it held. I slept easier, walked taller, laughed more. I felt like I was on the cusp of something, but I couldn't decipher what and it was beginning to frustrate me. I was so used to having the answers and now all I had was blanks.

The high-pitched cry of a baby cut through my thoughts and I turned my head towards the sound. The table next to mine had been occupied while I was tangled in the mess, I called my life. A blonde-haired man with a neat, trimmed beard cradled a baby in his arms speaking in soft tones.

He looked up, blue eyes catching my own, and I felt my cheeks burn with his gaze. His skin held the remnants of a warm Parisienne summer, making his fair hair stand out. My mouth ran dry.

"Désolé du dérangement," he said, and I blink a few times only understanding the first word of the sentence. The accent and language were definitely a giant pull for me to venture into France, but I still missed the coffee in Italy.

"I'm sorry. I'm not fluent in French," I responded, mentally kicking myself for not brushing up before the move.

"I said," he started again, his voice thick with accent. "I'm sorry for the disturbance. My son seems to have no care for the typical quiet Sunday morning rules." The man glanced down at the baby in his arms who was still exercising his lungs with wild abandon. "Actually, I'm certain any quiet morning rules don't apply to him."

I gave him an apologetic smile and he continued, "He doesn't sleep well through the night. I thought a quick stop for coffee would stop me falling asleep in church, but I don't think he's very fond of the idea."

"It's sweet that you're giving your partner a break," I said, trying to find the silver lining for him. It's almost as if time slows as his face drops and I realise my mistake all too late. "I'm sorry..."

"No, it's okay," he says, dropping his eyes back to the baby in his arms. "She left me... us. No word. Just us boys against the world." He didn't seem sad or angry, instead he was calm and measured in his tone.

My heart tugged painfully in my chest and before I registered what I was doing, I was up out of my seat and joining him at his table. "How about I hold him while you drink that coffee?"

The man regarded me, blue eyes wide and now that I'm closer to him I can see the dark circles under his eyes that have formed from lack of sleep.

"I don't want to bother you, mademoiselle."

"It's no bother, honestly. It's not like you're taking me away from my friends," I told him, gesturing back to the empty table I was sat at.

"Perhaps they were imaginary," he teased. His smile made my heart stutter in my chest. It's not perfect, slightly crooked but it makes his eyes crinkle at the corners and I wonder how on Earth someone would just up and leave this man and a baby.

I hold my arms out and he passes over the fussing child.

"What's his name?" I asked.

"Maxence," he replied.

Gently, I rocked the baby in my arms, and he began to calm slowly, nuzzling into the blankets that he was wrapped in. Perhaps, in an alternative timeline, an alternative universe, I would have my own children and be content with someone instead of this restless being that I had grown to be.

"Now baby Maxence," I said gently, looking down at the child. My index finger rubbed his cheek timidly. "Listen to me. Your Dad is trying his hardest but you're going to need to give him something to work with. How about a little nap so Dad can pay attention in church?"

Surprisingly, the tiny thing in my arms let out a yawn of agreement and my heart swelled at how cute he looked. When I glanced back up, Maxence's Dad was watching us.

"...You're meant to be drinking your coffee."

That broke him from his trance, and I could see the hint of pink that dusted his cheeks. He reached out for the mug on the table - large hands and slender fingers picking up the vessel before drinking deeply. He moved the mug from his lips, wet from the coffee he'd just drank before leaning back in his chair and closing his eyes.

"The sweet sound of silence," he muttered. I laughed quietly and he opened his eyes again. "You don't speak fluent French and your accent is not from around here. You're on holiday?"

"Kind of. It's a little complicated."

He eyed me wearily and I realised that I probably sounded like a highly suspicious stranger that was currently holding his child.

"I left my job a few months ago," I explained. "And decided to travel and just figure things out."

"What did you do?"

"I was a lawyer."

"Fighting for justice."

A small smile tugged at my lips as I shook my head. "Not really. I mean, yes. That's the job description but I think I was in it more for the money than I was for the fact I would be helping people out. God, that probably sounds awful."

It was bloody awful, but it was the truth.

He sat up straight and took another sip from his mug. "It happens. Most of the world is money driven so I don't blame you."

For some reason, that eased the knot in my stomach. This man was a complete (handsome) stranger and I didn't want him to think I was some selfish, materialistic woman.

"But you left your job? Did it not pay enough?"

Maxence had fallen asleep in my arms. His little chest moved up and down with each breath he took.

"It wasn't that. I just realised they didn't treat me well for the amount of work that I did." I let out a breath. "And so I packed up and left and then got on a plane. I'm trying to figure out what comes next. I feel lost. I feel unsettled. I feel like I'm just going to keep failing and falling and..."

"You think too much."

We locked eyes again and my brow furrowed.

"You can never tell what the future holds. Even if you mapped out every second of your life there will be moments that are beyond your orchestration."

"But..."

"No buts," he cut me off. "I had plans. I was going to travel the world with my friends and live a life where I answered to no one but myself, but I fell in love, had a baby and now life is nothing like I planned."

"Do you wish it was?" I regretted the question as soon as it left my mouth.

He smiled kindly and it made my heart flutter. "Not in the slightest. I am a believer that everything that happens, happens for a reason."

I gave a hum at the concept before he drained the rest of his coffee and placed the mug back down with a dull clatter against the table.

"Merci," he said, carefully taking Maxence from my arms and wincing when the baby wriggled in his sleep. He let out a sigh of relief as the child settled again. "I really should get going before we're both late."

"Oh," I said, saddened that he was leaving so soon. "Sure. Let me grab the door."

He wrestled with the pram and I opened the door, letting in a blast of the chilly winter air.

"Good luck," he said over his shoulder. "With figuring out what happens next."

The corner of his mouth lifts into a half smile before he pushes the pram over the lip of the cafe and walks down the street. I watched him go for a few moments, kicking myself for not getting his name before sitting back at my table. Glancing at the screen on my phone I saw a number I didn't recognise.

"Hello. This is Emerson Faith speaking," I answered.

The woman on the other end of the phone was professional and curt as she invited me to interview for an opening at Livingston and Partners. I'd applied for the job on a whim thinking that maybe I had made a mistake and needed to get back into a courtroom again. Maybe the madness that had seized me almost a year ago was just that - madness. Maybe I hadn't found my purpose because I had already found it but was too hot headed to let it go.

My eyes fell on the mystery man's mug that sat on the table, half finished, a drip of coffee staining the side of the white ceramic and forming a neat little puddle on the table.

Or maybe I was about to find it. That heavy feeling that had settled in my stomach when he left me sitting alone had deviated my attention. Here and now, I needed to decide what I wanted. Was I about to walk back into a life I knew would make me comfortable even if it didn't make me happy or was I about to take a risk on a complete stranger who I didn't even know the name of and had more baggage than I had anticipated anyone I took an interest in having?

That man had said that everything that happened, happened for a reason and nine months ago I would have said he was crazy and rolled my eyes, but he had a valid point. I had planned so meticulously and none of that had mattered when I flounced out of the office in all my incandescent rage.

Here I was being offered a lifeline, a chance to walk back into the life I had planned.

"I'm so sorry," I said down the phone. "I'll have to politely decline your invitation to interview. I've had something come up and I'm not currently in the market for a new job."

For the first time in my life, it looked like I was about to go to church. 

by ZaviJames