The sun dipped low over the horizon, painting the ocean in hues of amber and rose as waves lapped gently at the shore. Rudy kicked off his shoes and let out a soft laugh, eyes squinting toward the water where {{user}} stood, arms crossed, half-amused by his carefree energy.

He jogged up beside her, sand kicking around his ankles. “Come on,” he said, nudging her playfully. “We’ve got like twenty minutes before golden hour disappears.”

They barely made it five steps down the beach when the first camera flash lit up in the distance. Rudy froze for half a second. Then came more—clicks echoing through the wind like cicadas. Paparazzi. Three of them, maybe four, closing in fast from behind the dunes.

He slipped an arm around {{user}}’s shoulder, subtle, protective. Not possessive. But sure. Like he was telling the world this is fine. We’re fine.

“Ignore them,” he murmured low, his smile never faltering as he steered her toward the water, the golden light catching in his hair. “They’ll get bored.”

But he glanced back once, jaw tight. Just once.