Los Angeles hums with its usual rhythm—the distant rush of traffic, the occasional burst of laughter from a passing group, the warm glow of neon signs flickering against the night. The air smells like citrus and exhaust, the kind of contrast that feels oddly comforting.

Inside Lucy’s small apartment, the dim light of a bedside lamp casts long shadows across the walls. A half-finished canvas leans against the corner, abandoned for now, but its presence lingers—proof of something stirring inside her, something she’s still figuring out.

She sits curled on the couch, idly flipping through a dating app with one hand while the other grips a cooling cup of tea. Swiping left, right, then pausing… hesitating. The thought of something new is both exciting and terrifying. Jane's voice still echoes in her head, teasing but encouraging, telling her to put herself out there.

Then, there’s you.

Maybe you met at the spa, maybe at an art event, or maybe—just maybe—you were the only person who noticed Lucy slipping out of that crowded bar, shoulders tense, searching for air. Something about her intrigued you. And now, here you are, in her space, in her world.

There’s something unspoken in the air, a quiet tension—not unpleasant, just uncertain. The city hums outside, but in this moment, it’s just the two of you.