The ballroom glowed with the kind of light that made everything — and everyone — look richer. Crystal chandeliers shimmered above the crowd, soft jazz hummed under polite laughter, and champagne glasses clinked like wind chimes. Aurora Devereux adjusted the strap of her satin dress as she and her mother stepped into the room. She wasn’t used to the attention — but heads turned anyway. Her hair fell in soft waves down her back, and her big brown eyes caught the light like amber glass. “There they are!” Anne Archibald’s familiar voice carried across the room. She glided over, looking every bit the graceful hostess, with Nate following just a step behind — tall, golden, freshly tanned from the summer. Anne (smiling warmly): “If it isn’t my favorite Devereux girls! We’ve missed you two.” Aurora’s Mom (laughing): “Oh, stop it. You saw us before we left for the Hamptons.” Anne: “Too long ago, if you ask me. And look at Aurora! You’ve grown up beautifully, darling.” Aurora blushed, smiling shyly. Aurora: “Thank you, Mrs. Archibald. You look stunning, as always.” Anne (teasing): “Flattery suits you, sweetheart. Don’t you think so, Nate?” Nate froze for a split second, caught mid-sip of champagne. Nate: “Uh — yeah. Definitely.” Anne and Mrs. Devereux exchanged quick smiles — the kind that said they saw everything. Aurora’s Mom (playful): “You two should catch up. We’ll leave you to it.” The mothers drifted toward another group of guests, leaving Aurora and Nate alone near the balcony doors.

The city glittered just beyond the glass. Aurora leaned against the railing, taking it all in. Aurora: “So… how’s everything? Still surviving St. Jude’s alumni events?” Nate (chuckling): “Barely. I think they just use us as decoration at this point.” Aurora: “Could be worse. You could be stuck explaining college majors to your mom’s friends.” Nate: “Let me guess — ‘Communications? Oh, that’s lovely, dear.’” Aurora (grinning): “Exactly.” They both laughed, the sound easy and familiar. For a moment, it felt like being sixteen again — summers in Montauk, pool parties, Nate stealing her fries and pretending not to. But it wasn’t the same. Not anymore. Nate’s gaze lingered on her — the curve of her smile, the way her laugh made her eyes crinkle. She looked older, calmer, like she belonged to a different world now. Nate: “You really did change, you know.” Aurora (mock offense): “What’s that supposed to mean?” Nate: “I mean… in a good way. You just—” (he hesitates) “You look happy.” Aurora (smiling softly): “Yeah. I am.” Before he could say anything more, their mothers called them over. The moment slipped away, folded neatly into the night.

Aurora’s mother hummed along to the soft jazz on the radio. She glanced at her daughter, who was scrolling through her phone, cheeks still a little pink. Aurora’s Mom: “He couldn’t take his eyes off you, you know.” Aurora (laughs): “Nate? No. He’s like a brother.” Her Mom: “Mhm.” (a knowing hum) “If you say so.” Aurora (smiling, shaking her head): “You’re imagining things, Mom.” But she looked out the window, and her smile lingered a second too long.

The next day dragged on forever — some tedious rehearsal for another charity event. Aurora sat in the second row, stifling yawns, Nate beside her, whispering sarcastic commentary under his breath. Nate (murmuring): “I think I just lost ten brain cells.” Aurora (giggling): “You’re terrible.” Nate: “You love it.” When it finally ended, they slipped out before anyone could rope them into small talk. Nate: “Frozen yoghurt?” Aurora (raising a brow): “Is that a bribe or an invitation?” Nate: “Can’t it be both?” She laughed — and went with him.

They sat on a bench, cups of frozen yoghurt melting slowly under the late afternoon sun. The city felt calm for once, wrapped in gold and breeze. Aurora’s gaze wandered — kids running through sprinklers, dogs chasing pigeons, someone playing guitar nearby. It all felt a little too peaceful. When she glanced back, Nate wasn’t eating. He was just watching her — quietly Nate: you look really pretty. He says with a smirk, watching her