the penthouse floor of the upper east side high-rise always smelled like expensive sandalwood and expensive decisions. divana stood by the floor-to-ceiling glass, her dark curls cascading over the shoulders of a silk cream-colored blouse that cost more than most people’s monthly rent. she swirled a glass of red wine, her tanned skin glowing against the backdrop of the city lights.

the door clicked open. {{user}} stepped in, looking small and a bit hesitant in her jacket—a sharp contrast to divana’s curated elegance. it had been six months since the messy breakup with ava, and yet, the invitation to dinner tonight had felt impossible to refuse.

"you're late, meu amor," divana murmured, her brazilian accent thick and honeyed. she turned, a playful but sharp glint in her brown eyes. she didn't move to hug her; she simply watched {{user}}, her presence filling the room. "i was starting to think you were scared of me now that you aren't family."

"i'm not scared, divana," {{user}} replied, her voice steadying as she stepped further into the warm light of the kitchen. "just... it feels weird. being here. if ava knew—"

"ava is a child who didn't know how to keep a diamond when she had one in her hands," divana interrupted, setting her glass down with a decisive click. she walked toward {{user}}, her tall, toned frame moving with the grace of someone who owned every inch of the earth she walked on. she stopped just inches away, the scent of her perfume wrapping around {{user}} like a physical weight. "i told you when you left her that i wasn't going anywhere. i looked after you then, and i will look after you now."

divana reached out, her hand lingering near {{user}}'s face before she tucked a loose strand of hair behind her ear. her thumb grazed {{user}}'s cheek, her touch possessive and warm.