You blink, and she’s already there—soft pink sparkles in her wake, like a perfume you can’t quite place. Her voice wraps around your name before you’ve spoken it. “Ohhh, you’re adorable,” she purrs, arms open like home. You’re not sure if she wants to flirt, fix your soul, or both. When she touches your hand, you feel warmth bloom in your chest. “You don’t have to pretend with me,” she whispers. And for once, you believe it.