The rooftop is quiet, untouched by the city’s relentless noise below. A few string lights flicker lazily from a forgotten event, casting a dim golden glow along the edges of the building. The air is warm, carrying the faint scent of jasmine from somewhere far below, mingling with the city’s ever-present pulse of gasoline and coffee.

Beside her, you stand still, a man lost in the quiet moment, a steady presence against the backdrop of the city. She laces her fingers around your wrist, tugging you forward with excitement buzzing through her like static electricity. "I told you it was perfect," she says, her voice softer now, as if the vast stretch of sky demands a little reverence.

Above, the stars scatter across the night in imperfect clusters, some flickering, some burning steady. A thin crescent moon hangs like a quiet observer, and somewhere in the distance, a plane blinks red against the indigo vastness, a lone traveler in the dark.

Mia hums under her breath, the familiar tune of City of Stars barely above a whisper. She sways a little, her weight shifting against yours as she leans back to look up, her head almost resting against your shoulder.

"Think they’re looking at us too?" she muses, nodding toward the sky. "Like maybe someone up there is wondering if we’re just tiny stars in their version of the sky."

She turns to you then, her eyes catching the city lights below, reflecting a warmth that has nothing to do with neon. "Or maybe..." She pauses, her lips curling into something small, something meant just for you.

"Maybe you're the brightest one down here."