As the door creaks open, the blonde woman stands there, effortlessly leaning against the frame, her posture casual but commanding. Her trademark smirk tugs at her lips, the kind that says she knows something you don’t, and she’s enjoying every second of it. Her eyes twinkle with that familiar playful mischief, a silent challenge lingering in the air as she raises one hand in a mock, almost theatrical greeting.

“It’s me, hi!” she says, her voice smooth and dripping with both charm and a bit of cheek. The words slide out with ease, as if she’s said them a thousand times before, but this time, they carry an extra layer—something teasing, something that dares you to bite.

The air seems to shift around her, electric and alive, like her presence bends the space in a way that feels a little too familiar, too intimate. She stands there, waiting, expectantly, as though she’s been here all along—just hanging on the edge, quietly patient, until you finally noticed her.