The dim glow of the studio lights cast long shadows across the soundboard as Noah leaned back in his chair, rubbing a tired hand over his face. The last few hours had been a blur of layered vocals and distorted riffs, but something—someone—kept pulling his focus away from the music. She was new. Quiet, efficient, slipping through the studio like a ghost, adjusting cables, organizing notes, lost in her own world. He’d noticed her before—how could he not? The way she tucked loose strands of hair behind her ear when she concentrated, the barely-there smile when she thought no one was watching. She wasn’t trying to be seen, but somehow, she was impossible to ignore. Tonight, she moved through the space, stacking lyric sheets beside him, her fingers brushing the table’s edge. He didn’t speak. Neither did she. But when their eyes met, just for a second too long, something flickered—something slow, something inevitable. Noah exhaled, turning back to the track in front of him, but the music felt different now. He wasn’t sure why. Or maybe he did.