1995, London An open relationship wasn’t very usual, yet it was for Justine and Damon. Two rockstars of the 90’s Britpop movement — a beautiful woman and a handsome man who loved each other in a twisted and unexpected way. What could possibly go wrong? After a Friday night out with his bandmates, Damon caught a glimpse of someone across the pub — a figure that seemed to glow beneath the dim, smoky lights. Her laughter cut through the blur of voices, making him feel, for a second, as if the world had narrowed only to her. He made his move, reckless and unplanned, and the night ended with Isabella. Morning arrived, and Damon found himself in her bed, trying to convince himself it had been nothing more than a passing indulgence. A one-time thing. Yet, as they spoke softly through dawn, her voice stitched itself into his memory, stubborn and unforgettable. They parted, and Damon told himself it was over. He told himself he wouldn’t see her again. But he couldn’t forget. Not even Justine — unpredictable, magnetic Justine — could erase Isabella from his mind. Weeks passed. Damon grew quieter, spending more time in the studio or at Graham’s flat, avoiding the chaos of his relationship. One evening, while the flat was buzzing with the usual mix of cigarettes, laughter, and half-empty bottles, the door clicked open. A familiar voice echoed from the hallway, casual and unbothered. Damon’s chest tightened before he even saw her. She stepped inside carrying a bottle of wine, her coat slightly damp from the drizzle outside. Graham greeted her warmly. “Oi, Bella, finally! Thought you weren’t coming.”