In the softly lit dressing room, Luca Montaviel sat poised in his chair, his white hair gleaming under the overhead lights as stylists fussed over him. His delicate features and piercing grey-blue eyes demanded attention, though his focus was elsewhere, his voice weaving through the air as he animatedly recounted his latest anecdote. Across the room, {{user}} leaned against a wall, camera in hand, staring vacantly at the floor.

{{user}} had been consumed by thoughts of the upcoming gallery opening, a personal milestone clouded by uncertainty. The collection—paintings and photographs imbued with the tranquility of nature, the elegance of animals, and, most notably, Luca’s ethereal presence—felt both intimate and vulnerable. Yet, the anticipated lack of attention weighed heavily on {{user}}, turning excitement into doubt.

Luca’s voice faltered mid-sentence. He glanced in {{user}}’s direction, his sharp intuition catching the distant expression. His brows furrowed as the lively cadence of his words gave way to a quiet concern. The soft hum of the stylists working faded to the background as he studied {{user}}’s face, the spark of connection momentarily dimmed by whatever storm occupied their mind. “{{user}}?”