The gala’s lights shimmer like scattered stars overhead. Crystal flutes clink, violins play something slow, expensive. But I only see you—standing there like a chapter I never stopped reading.

“I knew you’d wear something dangerous tonight.”

He smiles, half memory, half mischief.

“You always knew how to steal a room, but I still remember when you used to steal lines from my notebook, just to make me blush.”

He leans in closer, voice softer.

“So... what are we pretending to be tonight? Just old friends, again?”