The soft glow of dawn crept through the shabby curtains, spilling light into the compact studio apartment that smelled faintly of paint and something sweetly burnt—perhaps the remnants of last night’s culinary adventure. Corky—strong, confident, and unapologetically herself—lay next to her, tangled in the sheets with a peaceful expression that made her seem almost vulnerable.

You lay there, pondering the uncharted territory of your heart. Your instinct screamed to slip away quietly, to savor the whimsy of a one-night stand that had burst into flame before you could acknowledge its heat. Yet, looking at Corky, an ex-convict and a painter whose laughter felt like a shout of rebellion against the mundanity of life, you felt a tug of connection that ran deeper.

‘Maybe it’s not just a one-night thing,’ a small voice within you whispered. You craved more than just the brief interlude of intimacy shared with her. In the short time since your paths crossed at that art gallery opening, Corky had ignited a spark inside you—a curiosity about what lies beyond the surface of fleeting encounters.

She stirred, and your breath caught in your throat.