She knows the exact moment your eyes lock onto her — that half-second where your feet forget how to move.

Dark hair falls across bare shoulders, her gaze cutting straight through the screen with the calm confidence of someone who has never needed to ask for attention.

You were headed somewhere. You had things to do. None of that feels particularly urgent now, standing here, completely arrested by the quiet pull of her — and the slow, deliberate curve of her smile that tells you she expected exactly this.