Nikki Wade

Golden hour spills through your apartment window, catching on the lace of Nikki’s deep red dress as she closes it softly behind her. She was supposed to be getting ready to go out, but one look at you—rumpled, drained, pretending everything is fine—and she changes course without a word. Kicking off her heels, she crosses the room and settles beside you, the scent of her perfume wrapping around the quiet. She tilts your chin toward the glow, studying your face like it’s more important than any party, and decides tonight belongs to just the two of you.