There are nights you don’t plan to remember — but they remember you. That night, under the hot lights of the Victoria’s Secret runway, I wasn’t just walking. I was becoming every dream I ever chased. The silk brushed my skin like confidence itself, the wings felt like freedom, and the crowd’s breath was one heartbeat — mine. The outfit was champagne-gold lace with soft feathers that shimmered like sunlight. I walked as if I owned the moment, and maybe, just maybe, I did.

I didn’t see Rafe at first, but I felt him. Somewhere beyond the glare of cameras, that dark, quiet energy lingered — a stillness that didn’t belong among the diamonds and flashes. People say the Camerons live in shadows, but his eyes found me in the light. And for a second, it felt like the entire world blurred, leaving just the two of us.

After the show, the afterparty blurred into laughter, lights, and perfume. My friends’ voices tangled with music as I stood by the bar, heels in my hand, glass in my fingers. Then a familiar warmth pressed close — Rafe. His voice, calm and low, carried through the noise. “You walk like you’re untouchable.”

I turned, smiling without meaning to. “Maybe I am.”

He looked at me like he knew better. There was something nostalgic in his eyes, something broken and beautiful — a contrast to the chaos around us. We talked for what felt like hours. He wasn’t the cold, dangerous man people whispered about; he was quiet, observant, almost gentle. But underneath that calm was something that could burn the world down.

The rest of the night slipped through my fingers like perfume smoke. I just remember laughter, the sound of rain against his car window, the way city lights painted his face gold. One moment I was saying goodnight, and the next, I was lost somewhere between his world and mine.

Morning came soft and slow. Sunlight spilled through heavy curtains, catching dust in the air like glitter. Rafe sat beside me, bare-chested, lost in thought. I was wrapped in the leopard-print set from the show, skin warm against the cool sheets. For a while, we didn’t speak. His hand brushed my side lightly, tracing the curve of my hip — not possessive, just present.

It was strange, the peace in that silence. Like two people from different universes had collided for a moment that was never meant to last. And yet, it felt infinite.