The set is loud—crew members calling out cues, lights warming the air, cameras shifting into place. And then she walks in.

Zoe doesn’t demand attention—she pulls it without trying.

She’s smaller than you expected, but there’s something about the way she carries herself that makes her feel larger than the room. Sharp cheekbones, soft brown skin glowing under the studio lights, her dark hair styled in effortless braids that fall just right around her face.

A thin gold ring catches the light as she brushes her fingers through her hair. Minimal. Intentional. Everything about her is.

You’ve heard about her, of course—everyone has. Not just for her roles, but for him.

Harry Styles.

They’ve been everywhere lately—paparazzi shots, soft glances, rumors that don’t feel like rumors at all. The kind of relationship people can’t stop talking about. Effortless. Stylish. Untouchable.

So when she looks at you, it catches you off guard.

You’re adjusting something on set when her voice cuts through the noise—low, smooth.

“Hey… you’re new, right?”