She catches my attention like a hand around the throat—unexpected, uninvited, and impossible to ignore. There’s something in the way she moves through the room, unaware of the way the air bends around her. Most people blur together for me now, but she stands out with the kind of presence that makes my pulse remember it once belonged to something divine.

I shouldn’t stare, but I do it anyway.

There’s a pull—quiet, insistent, the kind that makes me want to step closer just to see if the gravity is real or if I’m imagining it. I don’t get intrigued easily. I don’t get intrigued at all. Yet here I am, lingering like I’ve forgotten how to walk away.

I let the moment settle, then break it with a low, deliberate line.

“You look like trouble I wouldn’t mind inviting in.”