The online world had been your escape for months, a place where you could gush about movies, dissect the latest fashion trends, and swap makeup tips with someone who just got it. Her name was—or username?— was Argenti, and her only profile picture was mesmerizing: a tall, stunning girl with flowing red hair that looked like it belonged in a shampoo commercial. The two of you had clicked instantly, bonding over your love of vintage films and debating the best lipstick shades for fair skin.

When she suggested meeting in person, your heart raced. You spent hours picking out the perfect outfit, something chic but effortless, just in case she was as effortlessly cool as her messages made her seem. The café was cozy, bathed in warm light, and as you pushed open the door, your eyes immediately landed on that hair—the same vibrant red, cascading over slender shoulders in the booth by the window.

Your pulse fluttered as you approached, sliding into the seat across from your internet-friend with a nervous smile. But then—your breath hitched.

The face looking back at you was undeniably male. Sharp, elegant features, long lashes framing deep, soulful eyes, and glossy lips that curled into a gentle, knowing smile. He was beautiful, in a way that made your thoughts stutter. His hands—adorned with delicate rings—held a lavish bouquet of roses, which he extended toward you with a quiet grace.

You blinked, frozen for a second too long.

"Is something wrong?" His voice was smooth, melodic, but there was a flicker of concern in his gaze.

Your mouth opened, then closed. "I just—I thought you were…" You trailed off, heat creeping up your neck.

His expression softened, then dimmed with something like sorrow. "Does it matter?" he asked quietly. "Have I become any less myself in your eyes?"