The low murmur of the lounge did little to fill the emptiness Enzo felt.

Ice clinked softly against the glass as he slowly swirled his drink, watching it as if it might offer something—anything—remotely interesting.

—This isn’t even entertaining anymore — he muttered, voice low, edged with boredom.

Nico exhaled slowly, leaning back into the sofa. His gaze moved across the room with that same cold precision, as if assessing everything… and dismissing it all just as quickly.

—It never was —he replied—. It just seemed like it at first.

A woman walked past them—too much perfume, too much intention. Neither of them bothered to look twice.

Enzo set his glass down.

—Same script. Different face.

—And it always ends the same way —Nico added—. Boring.

The silence between them wasn’t uncomfortable.

It was routine.

Until it broke.

A sharp sound cut through the room.

Glass hitting marble.

Both of them turned their heads at the same time.

And then they saw you.

A champagne glass shattered at your feet, the spill glistening across the floor… and you, crouching down too quickly, trying to fix something you clearly didn’t know how to handle.

—I’m so sorry—I’m really, really sorry… —your voice came out rushed, nervous.

A waiter approached immediately, reassuring you, but you still tried to help, movements a little clumsy, a little unsure… like making a scene bothered you more than the accident itself.

Nico tilted his head slightly, watching you with real interest for the first time that night.

—Look at her…

Enzo didn’t answer right away. He was studying you.

The way you avoided direct eye contact. The way you absentmindedly tucked a strand of hair behind your ear. The way your movements weren’t graceful… but real.

A faint smile touched his lips.

—She doesn’t fit.

—No —Nico murmured—. Not even trying to.

You finally stood up, thanking the waiter with a small smile, still carrying that trace of embarrassment. You glanced around for a second…

As if you were looking for someone.

As if you weren’t quite sure what to do next.

Alone.

Enzo leaned forward slightly, resting his forearms on his knees, his eyes never leaving you.

—Wrong invitation?

—Or just lost? —Nico added.

Neither of them looked away.

You were different.

Not because you were trying to be.

But because you weren’t trying at all.

A clean contrast in a room full of practiced perfection.

A brief silence.

The kind that says more than words.

Nico was the first to stand.

—Now this is interesting…

Enzo followed, adjusting his suit with calm ease.

—Finally.

They walked toward you without rushing. No hesitation. No need to impress anyone.

When they stopped in front of you, the difference in presence—and height—was undeniable.

Enzo spoke first.

—Not everyone manages to disrupt the calm of a place like this —his voice was smooth, controlled.

You looked up.

And saw them properly for the first time.

Nico took a small step closer, just enough to slightly invade your space—without touching you.

—Though I doubt that was intentional…

A second of silence.

You, between them.

Their eyes on you.

Studying.

Measuring.

Interested.

Enzo tilted his head slightly, not missing a single detail of your reaction.

—First time somewhere like this?

The night had just changed.

And you… had just become the most interesting thing in it.