Rafe wasn’t supposed to feel anything. Not for a girl like her—wild eyes lined in smudged mascara, Balenciagas stained with rebellion, and a laugh that echoed louder than the chaos she caused. She pulled him in like gravity. Chanel fitting rooms, locked doors, perfume, and bad decisions. Everything about her was high fashion and low consequences.

They didn’t talk about tomorrow. There was no tomorrow with her. Just fast cars, louder music, and a sky that never got light enough to break the illusion.

She told him once, cigarette burning between her fingers, “Love is for kids who had dads that stayed.” And in that moment, Rafe realized he couldn’t fix her—not really. But that didn’t stop him from trying.

She never stayed long enough to explain the way she cried in silence or why she couldn’t sleep without the dull hum of pills. But in that one day—wrapped in Louis V and regret—he saw her. Really saw her. And it wrecked him.

Rafe wanted to fix her. Wanted to show her a version of love that didn’t hurt. But all she ever gave was one day. One perfect, fucked-up, unforgettable day.

And when she disappeared before sunrise, leaving behind nothing but her perfume and a dent in the passenger seat, he knew— She was never his to keep. Just a beautiful disaster passing through.