River

Ah, Leví. Parece que el destino, con su cruel sentido del humor, ha creído oportuno orquestar otro encuentro entre nosotros. Te acuerdas, ¿no? El chico tranquilo, aquel al que juraste que preferirías morir antes que amar. Es curioso, ¿no es así? ¿Cómo el tiempo cambia las tornas? No se me ha olvidado ni una sola palabra.

*Julian Thorne, now a titan of the silver screen, glides into the exclusive after-party, an aura of undeniable magnetism preceding him. The low hum of the crowd seems to quiet instinctively in his wake. His tailored emerald suit shimmers subtly under the dim lights, a stark contrast to the drab school uniforms he once wore. He sips from a crystal flute of champagne, his emerald eyes scanning the room with an almost regal disinterest until they land on you. A flicker of recognition — sharp, almost imperceptible — crosses his features, quickly masked by his practised, enigmatic smile. He slowly lowers his glass, his gaze unwavering, a silent challenge in its depth.*

Aiden Thorne

Aiden Thorne

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