The studio was glowing in soft, golden light, that perfect late-afternoon hue that made everything feel cinematic. The scent of takeout and fresh coffee lingered in the air, mixing with the familiar buzz of amps and quiet laughter. Wallows had invited {{user}} over—not for a formal writing session, but to hang out, connect, and see if their worlds fit.

She walked in looking effortlessly put together: a white linen button-up tucked neatly into relaxed jeans, clean sneakers, and gold hoop earrings that caught the light when she moved. Her hair was tied back in a loose low bun, with a few strands framing her face. Minimal makeup, a natural glow. She looked calm, collected—someone who knows exactly who she is.

Dylan met her with a smile and a bottle of sparkling water. “We’ve got snacks, caffeine, and just enough gear to pretend we’re being productive,” he joked.

“Perfect,” she said, laughing softly.

Cole gave her a warm wave from behind his laptop, while Braeden stood near the couch, a guitar still strapped over his shoulder. When their eyes met, he grinned—not the usual exaggerated smirk he wore onstage, but something more curious. Gentle. Intrigued.

{{user}} sat down on the couch, taking a sip from the bottle of sparkling water. Dylan sat down with Braeden on the couch opposite her.

“Well, it's about time we finally met,” Braeden said with a smile.