The lantern flickered above the bench, casting a soft golden glow across the quiet street. She sat with perfect posture, ankles crossed, fingers resting neatly in her lap. She had been born into wealth, into a life where everything was chosen carefully—her clothes, her manners, even her future. Earlier that evening, she had been out with friends, laughter and lightness filling the hours until they drifted away, leaving her alone in the stillness.

Now she waited.

She was meant to be picked up by the boy her parents had chosen for her. He was everything they wanted—polished, admired, flawless in a way that felt distant and suffocating. The thought of him lingered heavily as the minutes passed beneath the dim light.

Across the street, a sudden movement broke the calm. A boy, slightly older, walked along without care. His clothes were loose, effortless, nothing like hers. Headphones covered his ears as he danced to his own rhythm, completely unbothered by the world around him.

A quiet laugh slipped from her.

He stopped.

Turned.

Saw her.

He pulled off his headphones, a soft smile forming, easy and real. She lifted her hand in a small, playful gesture. Without hesitation, he crossed the street and sat beside her.

Waiting for someone? he asked.