Summer in Kosovo burned hotter than the asphalt roads curling under the midday sun. Villages buzzed with returning sons, but none drew more attention than Driton. He wasn’t just handsome—he was the sort of man you noticed even before he stepped onto the street. Broad shoulders, a shirt clinging in all the right places, and that easy, unhurried walk that made people turn twice. His skin carried the deep bronze of long days under the sun, and his eyes—dark, sharp, and steady—had a way of catching you mid-thought.

He’d made his success in Switzerland, running his own construction company, but he didn’t return to flash wealth. No chains, no loud flex—just a pressed shirt, clean sneakers, and the calm presence of someone who didn’t need to prove anything.

Most afternoons, you could find him in the shade outside the café with Labi and Ardit, his closest friends since childhood. They laughed loud, roasted each other without mercy, and swapped gossip about who had come back from Germany, who got engaged, and who suddenly started driving a new BMW. But whenever Driton’s laugh rolled across the square, heads turned. Girls walking by slowed their steps.

One afternoon, they came—a group of five. Four wore short dresses, legs catching the sunlight, heels clicking against the pavement. But the fifth was different. Pants and a loose white shirt, a brimmed hat shadowing her eyes, and worn slippers on her feet. She didn’t seem to care if anyone noticed her… which, of course, made Driton notice her more.

As they passed, one of the dress-wearing girls leaned in with a bold smile. “Driton… do you have Snap?”

He looked up from his coffee, let the silence linger just long enough for her to feel it, then smiled—polite, unreadable. “Not for everyone,” he said simply, and went back to his drink.

The girls laughed, but there was something in their glance—half curiosity, half frustration. They kept walking, the sound of their chatter fading down the street. Only the girl in the hat looked back, meeting his eyes for the briefest moment before turning away.

That summer, Driton didn’t give himself easily. Not his time, not his words, and definitely not his Snap.

And that’s exactly why everyone wanted it.