
“Let me tell you something strange, something small, so small you might’ve missed it if you weren’t looking with your heart as well as your eyes. It began not with thunder or trumpet, but with sunlight. Yes, sunlight. The sort that feels older than time, like it’s been waiting for just the right moment…

Don’t hate the player, hate the game. He’d said it like a mantra to himself. In the moments in between women and drinks when doubt would try and creep in. For a long time, it had worked. Until it hadn’t. Now, he hated his player ways and loathed the game.

“Damsel in distress? Not from where he was standing. If anything, it looked like the masked man needed his help more than the young woman did. She was holding her own with – was that an umbrella?”

His harsh whisper broke through her trance. Her feet moved on autopilot as her mind struggled to catch up.
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