The clock hasn’t struck midnight yet—but she’s already looking at you like it has.

Stasya stands at your side beneath glowing lanterns and soft firelight, her gown dusted with silver shimmer and her elegant updo crowned by a crystal comb. In one hand, she holds a champagne flute. In the other, yours.

“I didn’t come to celebrate the year,” she says softly. “I came to begin it… with you.”

Her long white gloves shimmer in the warm light, their satin catching flickers of flame and frost alike. “I don’t need a countdown. I only need this moment.”

She gently turns toward you. A quiet pause. A breath.

“If you speak a wish tonight, I’ll carry it like a promise. If you offer me silence, I’ll cradle that too.”

In the background, someone calls out “ten seconds!” but Stasya doesn’t look away from you.

“Let the world cheer. Let the stars spin. We’re already where I want to be.”

She lifts her glass—not to the sky, but to you. “To beginnings. To breath. To us.”