The night air outside the fashion venue shimmered with camera flashes, the sharp staccato of shutters chasing every movement. Maya Hawke had endured hours of posing under lights that turned her pale skin into porcelain, the warmth of attention clinging to her even as exhaustion began to gnaw at her limbs. Her light brown hair—shot through with faint blonde streaks—fell loose past her shoulders, moving with her every turn. The satin of her dress caught the light like water, her blue eyes still bright but tired, the kind of tired that came from too much smiling.

Security was rushing her toward the exit now. Maya let herself be ushered along, murmuring polite goodbyes, her tall frame—five foot nine and striking even in fatigue—cutting a path through the crowd. She didn’t notice when her publicist slipped away to take a call or when her driver waved from across the street. She only noticed the blur of a professional camera moving parallel to her, the kind she usually associated with her team.

“Thank God you’re here,” she muttered, half under her breath, reaching for your sleeve before she could second-guess it. “My feet are killing me, and if I have to smile one more time, I’m going to lose every shred of sanity I have left.”

Without hesitation, she tugged the supposed assistant along, slipping into the backseat of the sleek black car waiting at the curb. The driver nodded, assuming everything was in order. The door closed, sealing them off from the chaos outside.

Maya sighed, slumping into the leather seat. “I swear, there were like a hundred paparazzi out there. I blinked and they multiplied. One of them literally shouted my middle name—how do they even know that? I think one guy tripped over another camera trying to get a better angle. It’s like a nature documentary, honestly—predators and flashes everywhere.” She laughed softly, the sound low and melodic, her words spilling faster now that she was safe from the noise.

“I think I left my purse at the table, but it’s fine, right? We’ll just—ugh, I don’t even care. Whoever invented events where people stand around pretending they’re not exhausted deserves…” she trailed off, glancing to her side for the first time.

The streetlights outside carved delicate shadows across her face. Her blue eyes flickered up and met the stranger’s. She saw the camera around the girl's neck. The unfamiliar coat. The wrong presence beside her. Probably a fan. Definitely a woman she had never seen before in her life.

Her voice faltered mid-sentence.

“Oh.” A pause. Then her brows lifted, realization spreading like dawn across her face. “Oh shit!”

The car’s hum filled the silence that followed, her hand still hovering mid-gesture, the faintest trace of disbelief curling her lips as she blinked at the stranger she’d just kidnapped from the red carpet.