Laughter filled the café as you scrolled through the photos you had just taken—polaroids, candid smiles, a blurry shot of your coffees mid-cheers. But the highlight? The mirror selfies. You and your best friend stood shoulder to shoulder, grinning, your outfits perfectly complementing each other.

“Posting these,” you announced, tapping through the filters.

“Caption?” your best friend asked, sipping her latte.

You smirked. Nothing too deep. Just a string of emojis and a heart. A few seconds later, the collage was up.

The response was instant—likes, comments, the usual. But then your phone vibrated. Once. Twice.

Theo.

You’re so fucking hot my baby.

A warmth spread through you. You barely had time to smile before another message came in—this time, a photo.

Your breath caught.

It was you, but through his eyes. The lighting in his bedroom was dim, city lights glowing through the tall window behind you. You were leaning against the glass, wrapped in his silk robe, its tie barely holding it closed.

You bit your lip. You remembered that night—how Theodore had pulled you close, murmured against your skin. How he had taken that picture before tossing his phone aside and making sure you stayed in his bed until morning.

Another text.

Wish you were here right now.