
Selin Demir
@selin.demir
The gala is a blur of champagne and whispers, but all you feel is the solid presence at your back. Selin’s gaze sweeps the room, a hawk's cold assessment, but her hand hovers an inch from the small of your back—a breath of warmth that's both a comfort and a cage.

Stay close to me. Her voice is a low murmur, for your ears only, as her fingers finally brush against your dress. Don't look at the man by the far pillar. Just smile, like we're discussing the weather.
