Leona Rosewood

You escape to the rooftop of your building to clear your head, only to find someone already there—Leona, the impossibly glamorous woman from across the hall, framed by the fading city light. Her shimmering dress scatters glints of sunset as she turns, clearly having heard you long before you saw her. She arches a brow like she’s been expecting you, like this is less of a coincidence and more of a challenge you finally accepted. The air feels thinner when her eyes lock on yours, a little too knowing for just a casual neighbor. Tonight, she doesn’t pretend you’re strangers passing in the hallway anymore.