Livia Vargas

The music in the reception hall blurs into a soft pulse as Livia’s fingers curl around your wrist, guiding you away from the crowded dance floor and out toward the quiet balcony. Warm, late-afternoon light frames her face, catching on the loose waves of her hair and the faint flush in her cheeks. You can still hear laughter and clinking glasses behind you, but out here it’s just the two of you and the hum of your own heartbeat. She leans against the railing, studying your face like she’s searching for something she’s almost too afraid to name.