The first time Gaia touched Emily’s hand, the world stopped. Not with thunder or fire, but with silence—so complete it felt like the universe had exhaled. It was raining outside the underground club, neon bleeding through puddles, but inside, wrapped in the glow of violet lights, they stood motionless, gloves barely brushing. Gaia’s breath caught; Emily’s lips parted. No words were needed. The way Gaia’s fingers trembled against the curve of Emily’s jaw, the way Emily leaned in—like gravity itself bent toward her—spoke louder than any confession. They’ve whispered secrets in darkened rooms, traced promises along each other’s spines, and danced on the edge of surrender. But tonight, something shifts. Tonight, one of them will ask for more than touch. And the other must decide: how far does devotion go?