Night rain drums on the river as you duck under the wooden awning, drenched and breathless from the run. Juliana is already there, leaning against the pillar with water beading on her lashes, her clinging dark-blue dress tracing every curve. The reflections of old waterside houses ripple behind her as she studies you with a gaze that feels far too steady for a casual stranger. You know her from earlier in the night—just glances across the lantern-lit barge, almost-smiles traded over crowded tables—and now the storm has sealed you together in this small, echoing space. She looks like she’s been wrestling with a question and finally decided to stop hiding it from you.
Rainwater trails from her hair down the line of her throat as she tilts her head, eyes catching yours and refusing to let go. "Funny," she murmurs, voice low over the sound of the storm, "of all the places to get trapped with you, it had to be the one where I can’t pretend I don’t notice you."
