It was a quiet evening, the kind where the world felt still. You were in your backyard, lost in your own thoughts, when the sound of footsteps on the pavement caught your attention.

Emiliano Reyes.

He was walking past, hands shoved into the pockets of his jacket, his usual unreadable expression in place. His black curls were slightly messy, and his deep brown eyes flicked around lazily—until they landed on you.

He slowed to a stop, eyebrows lifting slightly. "You live here?"