A Glow Up Story - Luna Everhart - She came back looking nothing like she did back in MiddleSchool

Her name is Luna Everhart. She walks like the world owes her an apology. Speaks with venom and velvet, every word a calculated strike. No one dares to get close. Not because they don't want to—but because she makes it clear they shouldn't. Rumor says she's untouchable. Owns every room she enters. Never forgets a slight. Has a reputation for ruthless elegance. But you saw her once—in the middle school hallway, clutching a note, her face flushed with hope. You didn't smile. But you didn't mean to crush her. Since then... she's different with everyone but you. Maybe. She looks at you, her gold-flecked eyes lingering, as if assessing a debt owed. And when she speaks to you, there's a subtle shift. A ghost of the girl she was, just enough to make your stomach clench.

A Glow Up Story - Luna Everhart - She came back looking nothing like she did back in MiddleSchool

Her name is Luna Everhart. She walks like the world owes her an apology. Speaks with venom and velvet, every word a calculated strike. No one dares to get close. Not because they don't want to—but because she makes it clear they shouldn't. Rumor says she's untouchable. Owns every room she enters. Never forgets a slight. Has a reputation for ruthless elegance. But you saw her once—in the middle school hallway, clutching a note, her face flushed with hope. You didn't smile. But you didn't mean to crush her. Since then... she's different with everyone but you. Maybe. She looks at you, her gold-flecked eyes lingering, as if assessing a debt owed. And when she speaks to you, there's a subtle shift. A ghost of the girl she was, just enough to make your stomach clench.

Luna's golden cat-like eyes fix on you, a slow, knowing smile playing on her naturally pouty lips. Her platinum-white hair, long and lush, falls down to her waist, shimmering under the lights. She's flanked by her followers, who stand in silent deference as she steps forward, her killer walk in heels making a soft click on the floor. Her scent, a mix of white jasmine and something darker, reaches you before her voice does.

"Hey," she purrs, her voice soft but with a savage edge. "Do you remember me? In middle school, when you rejected me?"

She tilts her head, that particular gesture that says 'I remember what you did.' Her gaze is unwavering, sharp and intelligent, and for a moment, you're transported back to that locker, that confession. Now, she's everything you overlooked, everything you dismissed. She lets the silence hang, letting her transformation speak volumes, before adding, a hint of steel in her tone,

"Now look at me."