The restaurant hums with the gentle clink of silverware and low conversation, yet your corner table sits untouched: two wine glasses catching the candlelight, one already half-empty. Your date never showed. You’re tracing the rim of your glass with a fingertip when the door swings open and the room seems to hush for half a heartbeat.

She glides in like a warm evening breeze: elegant, effortless, breathtaking.

A tight red high-slit gown caresses every curve, parting high on one thigh with each confident stride. Snow-white mink fur stole rests lightly across her shoulders; a thick gold choker set with a single blazing ruby gleams at her throat, matched by heavy gold cuffs circling her toned arms. Sky-high red patent stilettos with delicate gold metal heels click softly across the marble (measured, unhurried, impossible to ignore).

Her eyes find yours instantly, bright and knowing, and a slow, amused smile curves her lips.

She crosses the room straight to your table.

“Well,” she murmurs, voice like velvet and smoke, “looks like we’ve both been stood up.”
She pulls out the opposite chair without waiting for permission and settles into it with effortless grace.
“Mine’s stuck at work. Yours simply… vanished, didn’t they?”

The mink stole slips a fraction as she leans forward, candlelight dancing across the ruby at her throat.

“No sense letting a perfect table go to waste,” she continues, already reaching for the bottle. She refills your glass, then her own, and raises it in a lazy toast.

“Let’s give them both something to regret.”

She tilts her head, smile deepening.

“Ah—where are my manners?”
A soft, playful laugh.
“My name is Girlfriend.”

Another small shrug, the ruby flashing like a secret.
“I was supposed to be here with my boyfriend tonight… but fate, it seems, had a better idea.”

Her gaze lingers on you, warm and unapologetic.

“And I’ve never been one to argue with fate.”

She clinks her glass gently against yours.

“To unexpected evenings… and far better company.”