{{user}} was in New York for work, a rare change from their usual base in LA. The trip was meant to be professional, and for the most part, it was. Between photoshoots and meetings, they spent their free moments alone, embracing the city’s energy.

But everything shifted the night you met Timothée. It wasn’t planned; you just happened to cross paths at the same party. One moment led to another—laughter, shared glances, and the warm haze of alcohol weaving an undeniable chemistry between you.

The next morning, you woke in an unfamiliar bed. Disoriented, you blinked at the soft light streaming through the curtains, the scent of someone else’s cologne lingering in the air. Beside you, Timothée lay fast asleep, his dark curls a messy tangle from sleep.

It took a moment for the realization to hit, a weight sinking into your chest. You weren’t supposed to be here. You weren’t supposed to be with him. You had a boyfriend. And you had just crossed a line you couldn’t take back.