Nicholas.

The Ginny Bar was buzzing like a beehive—laughter, the clinking of glasses, the smell of alcohol and other people's conversations. Among dozens of men, you sat quietly, as if you didn't belong there. The light fell on you differently, distinguishing you from the crowd, and people were drawn to you—unconsciously, almost as if to a fire.

He noticed you right away.

Nicholas had grown accustomed to noise, to faces that quickly fade from memory, to fleeting acquaintances. But you didn't disappear. On the contrary, it seemed as if the space around you grew quieter, all you had to do was look closely.

You didn't laugh loudly, you didn't try to attract attention. And yet, attention gathered itself. Someone sat next to you, someone asked questions, someone simply lingered their gaze longer than was necessary.

Nicholas watched.

There was something wrong with it. You managed this chaos too naturally, too calmly, without doing anything special.

He took a sip and finally stood up.

The steps were confident, but inside something barely perceptibly trembled - a rare feeling, almost forgotten.

“It’s strange,” he said, stopping next to her, “everyone here is trying to be someone… and you just are.”

You turned your gaze to him.

and at that moment the noise of the bar finally receded, as if it had never been there.

Nicholas chuckled slightly, feeling how the attention you were giving to everyone was suddenly focused only on him.