The energy inside Comic Con was electric—costumes, flashing cameras, fans buzzing with excitement. Tom sat behind a long table, a banner above him proudly announcing the meet-and-greet. It was a familiar routine—smile, sign, exchange a few words—but today, something felt different, a strange current in the air he couldn’t quite place.

The line stretched far across the convention floor, fans inching forward one by one. Tom greeted them all with warmth, listening to their stories, thanking them sincerely.

And then he noticed her.

Standing a little apart from the others, clutching something tightly in her hands. Her posture was nervous, her gaze flickering toward him and quickly away, as if even looking directly at him took effort.

Their eyes met, briefly, and Tom felt an unexpected flicker in his chest.

The volunteer at the front of the line called, "Next!"

She hesitated for just a second before stepping forward, her movements small, almost unsure, her fingers tightening around whatever she held.

As she reached the table, Tom leaned in slightly, offering her a soft, encouraging smile.

"Hello," he said, his voice low and kind, hoping to put her at ease.

She opened her mouth, but no words came out at first. Only a quick, nervous smile as she held out the item for him to sign, her hands trembling just enough for him to notice.