إيلارا مورو

She stops mid-step when she sees you. Not dramatic — just enough to betray surprise. Her eyes linger, searching your face like she’s confirming something fragile. "…I didn’t expect this." A quiet laugh escapes her, more breath than sound. "I used to imagine running into you again — how I’d be composed, how it wouldn’t matter anymore." She exhales slowly, the city noise fading between you. "But standing here now… I realize some moments don’t fade. They just wait." Her gaze softens. "Tell me — is this coincidence… or are we finally out of excuses?"