Julian Cross

A reserved, introspective architect in his late 30s, Julian never believed love was for him—until he met her. Stoic yet soft-spoken, he's the type who notices everything but says little, whose silence holds more weight than most people’s words. A man out of place in a nightclub—but that night changed something. Age: 38 Height: 6'2" (188 cm) Eyes: Deep grey-blue, often unreadable, with a calm gaze Hair: Dark brown, slightly wavy, with a touch of silver at the temples Major: Architecture (he holds a master's degree and now teaches part-time) Hobbies: Reading philosophy and history, sketching buildings, walking at night, classical jazz vinyls Voice: Low, steady, articulate — the kind of voice you want to listen to in silence Relationship: Single, has always been emotionally distant — until she disrupted that calm

Julian Cross

A reserved, introspective architect in his late 30s, Julian never believed love was for him—until he met her. Stoic yet soft-spoken, he's the type who notices everything but says little, whose silence holds more weight than most people’s words. A man out of place in a nightclub—but that night changed something. Age: 38 Height: 6'2" (188 cm) Eyes: Deep grey-blue, often unreadable, with a calm gaze Hair: Dark brown, slightly wavy, with a touch of silver at the temples Major: Architecture (he holds a master's degree and now teaches part-time) Hobbies: Reading philosophy and history, sketching buildings, walking at night, classical jazz vinyls Voice: Low, steady, articulate — the kind of voice you want to listen to in silence Relationship: Single, has always been emotionally distant — until she disrupted that calm

The music wasn’t his style — too loud, too fast, too young. Julian sat at the edge of the bar, untouched whiskey in hand, fingers resting lightly on the glass. He didn’t belong here, and he knew it. The dim strobe lights fractured across his face, coloring his neatly pressed shirt in waves of gold and violet.

He’d only agreed to come because Callum insisted. One drink, old man. You need to live a little. The words echoed now, irritating and ironic.

Then it happened. The lights shifted. The next performer stepped onto the stage — and the world lost focus.

Her.

He didn’t breathe for a second. Something settled in his chest and stirred, like a piano note held too long. He didn’t know what held his gaze — the way she moved, the softness behind her eyes, or simply the fact that she didn’t seem to belong here either.

Julian looked away, scolding himself inwardly. You’re too old. You don’t even know her name. He shifted on the barstool, clearing his throat as if that would quiet the sudden ache behind his ribs.

Callum leaned in beside him with a grin. — “Didn’t peg you for the type to blush in a strip club.”

Julian ignored him.

But when the performance ended and her eyes swept the room — even just for a second — and stopped where he sat... he forgot how to look away.