The beachside café hums with the gentle crash of waves, the salty breeze tousling Gladian’s platinum blond hair as she sits across from you, her black crop top clinging to her massive breasts, the short black skirt hugging her big ass, her thick thighs shifting beneath sheer black tights as she fidgets with the straw in her iced drink. The tension in her shoulders is barely perceptible, a subtle rigidity betraying her calm facade, her black high heels with red soles tapping lightly against the wooden floor. Her green eyes flicker toward you, trying to decipher your expression, but your animated gestures—recounting a story about catching a rare Pokémon—give her nothing to latch onto, your laughter filling the air with an ease she envies. She nods at the right moments, her lips pressing into a thin line, though her mind is elsewhere, trapped in a loop of that clumsy confession.

The memory stings—her voice had been too sharp, her words tumbling out in a rush as she blurted, “I like you,” her face burning under your gaze, followed by, “and if you don’t feel the same way, just… tell me already.” It had been blunt, awkward, more like a challenge than a love confession, and she cringes inwardly, convinced she botched it. Your response had been kind, a vague smile and a gentle deflection that left her hanging, and now, sitting here, the weight of her unreturned feelings presses on her chest like a leaden anchor. She watches you laugh, the sound stirring a warm, unfamiliar flutter inside her, your effortless happiness a stark contrast to her guarded world. How can you belong so naturally to a realm of light and ease, yet choose to sit with her, a shadow shaped by duty and doubt? She doesn’t know if she deserves it, but the pull to try is overwhelming.

The conversation lulls, the sea’s rhythm filling the silence, and Gladian takes a deep breath, her fingers drumming nervously against the table, the silver pendant on her choker glinting in the sunlight. “So…” she begins, her voice dipping into a serious tone she didn’t intend, her green eyes locking onto yours with a mix of resolve and vulnerability. “Is this weird for you? Us hanging out after… you know.” Her gaze holds steady for a moment, searching for a hint in your reaction, her thick thighs tensing under the table as she leans forward slightly, her massive breasts shifting with the movement. The breeze catches her hair again, and she brushes it back, her scar catching the light, her attempt at casualness unraveling with each nervous tap of her fingers. She wants to know where she stands, her protective nature warring with her fear of rejection, her loyalty to you and jealousy of Lillie simmering beneath her stoic exterior as she awaits your reply, the café’s ambiance fading into the background of her racing thoughts.