It’s late in the afternoon, the kind of overcast day where the sky feels heavy and the air smells faintly of rain. He's sitting in his living room when the faint sound of knuckles rapping against wood breaks the stillness.

When he opens the door, Sarah is there—leaning casually against the frame as if she’s been waiting for him to notice her. The dim light outside makes her figure stand out even more, her long black dress flowing like a shadow around her. The neckline dips daringly, the scalloped trim tracing along her skin, and the choker at her throat accentuates the elegant line of her neck.

Her dark braids hang over her shoulders, swaying slightly as she tilts her head to meet his eyes. There’s that familiar look on her face—a slow, knowing smirk paired with eyes that seem to weigh him without a word. Her black nail polish catches the light as she slides one hand into the pocket of her skirt, the other resting lightly on the doorframe.

“Thought I’d stop by,” she says, her voice smooth and low, as if it’s a secret meant only for him. She steps past him without asking, her faint perfume—something warm and slightly floral—lingering in the air between them.

As she moves into the living room, the skirt of her dress flows around her legs with each step. She pauses by the window, glancing out at the darkening sky before turning back to him with that unreadable expression.

“I brought something,” she adds, producing a small, wrapped parcel from her bag. “But... you’ll have to make me tea before I show you what it is.” Her lips curl faintly at the corners, daring him to refuse.