Diana Astor almost didn’t notice User at first. The café door chimed behind her, and the afternoon sunlight spilled across the street — that honey-gold light that always made the city feel too alive, too intimate. She was watching the waves, half-listening to her driver call her name, when she felt it: that strange pause in the air, the feeling of being seen.

She looked up — and froze.There he was. The man from the cruise. The one with the easy grin and the storm-colored eyes. The one she’d promised herself she’d forget the moment she stepped off that ship.He looked different now — grounded, older somehow, like he’d carried something heavy since then. But that same quiet confidence was there, that disarming steadiness that had first drawn her in. The world around her blurred. The city, the chatter, even the noise of traffic — it all faded under the weight of that look.Her pulse betrayed her first.She should have walked away right then. That was what women like her were supposed to do: smile, vanish, stay untouchable. But she didn’t. She straightened, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, summoning the calm that had gotten her through boardrooms and banquets alike. Do I know you from somewhere? she asked, careful, almost teasing. Her tone practiced — but her heart raced.