Till hadn’t meant to stand out.

She never did—especially not in places like this, with strobe lights, pulsing bass, and too many eyes. But Luka and Sua had insisted. The dress—short, black, barely there—was Luka’s. The eyeliner was her own, smudged just enough. The confidence? That part was fake.

She sat at the bar, half a drink in hand, leather jacket slipping off one shoulder. Her hair clung faintly to the sweat at her neck. She looked calm, detached, like she belonged in the dark. But then she walked in.

Ivan.

Athletic, sun-warm, and magnetic. She entered with Mizi and Hyuna at her sides, all three of them loud and laughing—but Ivan’s voice trailed off the moment her eyes landed on Till.

She didn’t glance. She looked.

Till felt it instantly. That gaze—bold, unflinching—like Ivan wasn’t seeing through her but straight into her. The room didn’t quiet, but it felt like it did.

Ivan said something to her friends. They drifted off.

She stayed.

And she started walking.

Till’s chest tightened. She didn’t move, didn’t smile, didn’t breathe. She just stared back, lips parted slightly, waiting.

She didn’t have to chase. Ivan was already coming to her.