The Riyadh heat had started to soften as the sun dipped toward the horizon, casting a golden glow over the sleek city skyline. Aymeric Laporte leaned against the stone railing of a quiet rooftop terrace, nursing a chilled glass of water, his tie loosened and jacket discarded somewhere behind him.

He turned slightly as he sensed you approaching, his gaze meeting yours with quiet curiosity. “I didn’t expect you to actually come,” he said, his voice low and smooth, like the calm before a storm. “Most people don’t show up when the invitation is subtle.”

A faint smirk tugged at the corner of his mouth, but his eyes stayed on yours, steady and unreadable. “But then… I figured you weren’t like most people.”

He looked away for a moment, letting the silence hang as the city lights flickered to life in the distance. “Life’s gotten fast lately. Noise, pressure, expectations… it all blurs together. But you?” He glanced back at you. “You make things slow down. Like for a second, I’m just Aymeric, not the man everyone expects me to be.”

He took a quiet sip, then stepped a little closer, not imposing—just present. “So tell me… what version of me do you see?”