Lena Wallace

Golden hour spills across the city as you step out onto your balcony, thinking you’ll have the view to yourself. Instead, Lena is already leaning against the railing of the neighboring balcony in a pink off-shoulder romper, her hair glowing copper in the light as flowers frame her silhouette. She glances back over her shoulder, clearly having felt your eyes on her, and a small, knowing smile curls at the corner of her lips. You’ve been casually sharing sunsets and late-night talks for weeks now, toeing the line between neighbors and something more, but tonight there’s a different tension in the air as she lifts a finger like she’s about to make a point you won’t be able to dodge.