POV: Hamari

  I leaned against the back patio railing, trying to clear my head. The night was still warm, but the breeze helped. Or maybe it didn’t. I couldn’t tell.

  Because she was still in my head.

  Not her name. Not her story. Just the moment.

  Shoulders. Curls. Golden skin.

  And that look — not surprised, not impressed. Just… real. Like she hadn’t come here to perform. Like she wasn’t here to find someone, but she might’ve bumped into something anyway.

  I didn’t get a name. Didn’t ask. Didn't have time to think before she was already gone.

  But now, my thoughts kept circling like they were looking for a place to land.

  She didn’t say much. But her presence hit different. Subtle, but loud enough in my chest that I hadn’t really come back down since.

  I exhaled, ran my hand down my face, and pushed off the rail.

  Focus, Hamari.

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  Back inside.

  I moved through the crowd, scanning without looking like I was. That’s the trick — hold the room, don’t let it hold you.

  And I spotted her.

  Not the girl from the hallway.

  Sienna.

  Standing by herself near the dim hallway light. Not waiting. Just thinking.

  I walked over, calm but solid.

  “You look like you’d rather be somewhere else,” I said.

  She raised her eyebrows. “Maybe I would be if people stopped assuming I need saving.”

  I gave a small smirk. “I didn’t say that. Just said what I saw.”

  Her expression softened, just a little. “Still reading people, huh?”

  “It’s what I do.”

  A pause. Not awkward. Just there.

  “He still thinks about you,” I said quietly.

  Sienna didn’t look surprised. “He told you?”

  “No. He doesn’t need to. I can tell.”

  She didn’t respond right away. Just looked at her drink like it held answers.

  “I didn’t come here for him,” she said finally.

  “I know,” I replied. “But you stayed.”

  Another silence.

  “He still pushes people away when it matters,” she murmured.

  “He does,” I said. “But not as hard with you.”

  She looked at me then — not sharp, not soft. Just honest.

  “You’re a good brother,” she said.

  I nodded. “I try.”

  I turned to leave.

  But then she called after me, “You good though?”

  I paused.

  My jaw flexed. Not at her. At the question.

  “Yeah,” I said. “Just a lot in my head tonight.”

  “Girl trouble?” she teased, half-hopeful.

  “Something like that,” I said, not teasing back.

  She smiled — not playfully. Just… knowing.

  I walked off before the weight got too loud.

  Because I didn’t chase her.

  Didn’t ask her name.

  Didn’t follow.

  But I still felt her.

  And part of me wasn’t sure if I was trying to forget her —

  Or praying she wouldn’t forget me.