The evening stars

Sei così bella

Steven and Sophie approached the neighboring skyscraper, and the elevator silently took them to the desired floor. Sophie felt a flutter of excitement in her chest, even though she tried not to show it on her face. As soon as the elevator doors opened, Steven gestured for her to follow him down the corridor. They stopped in front of a stylish black door with a brass handle. Stephen opened the door and stepped aside, giving Sophie the chance to enter first.

Sophie stepped inside cautiously, her gaze immediately gliding over the space. The apartment struck with its exquisite simplicity and, at the same time, a certain coldness. The walls were done in dark shades of gray, almost black, which created a sense of mystery and depth. The large panoramic windows with a view of the city gave the room a sense of spaciousness, and the entire apartment was literally immersed in the nighttime lights of the metropolis. In the silence, broken only by the muffled sounds of the street far below, it seemed that peace always reigned here.

In the center of the living room stood an impressive piano, black and glossy, reflecting the light of the lamps with a shine. He drew attention to himself like the main element of this spacious room. On the floor lay a dark gray carpet that added a sense of coziness and warmth to the cold tones of the interior. The furniture was minimalist — a deep gray leather sofa, a glass coffee table on which lay a couple of fashion magazines and a book on architecture.

Stephen closed the door behind him, quietly clicking the lock, and noticed Sophie standing in the middle of the room.

— Do you like it? — he asked, watching her reaction.

— Very... minimalist, — Sophie remarked, still surveying the space. Her gaze lingered on the piano. — Are you playing?

— Sometimes, when I'm in the mood, — replied Stephen, approaching the bar counter in the corner of the room. — Do you want something to drink? Wine? Maybe something stronger?

— The wine will be great, — she replied, trying to cope with the growing sense of awkwardness. Finding herself in his personal space, Sophie felt the air between them grow tense. Her thoughts were darting between what she was doing here and how far she was willing to go.

Stephen poured red wine into two thin glasses and approached her, extending one.

— What's the toast for? — he asked, raising his glass.

— To... unexpected meetings? — Sophie suggested with a slight smile, trying not to show how everything inside her was trembling.

— To unexpected meetings, — Stephen repeated, gently clinking glasses with her. His eyes were glued to hers, and in that moment, tension once again crackled in the air between them.

Sophie carefully took a sip of the wine; its taste was rich, warm, and deep, just like this moment. She glanced around the apartment and again fixed her gaze on the piano.

— Can you play something? — she asked, trying to distract herself from the thoughts swirling in her mind.

Stephen smiled, set his glass on the table, and approached the piano. His fingers glided over the keys as if testing them. He sat down at the instrument and began to play something slow and melodic softly. The sound of the piano filled the room, making it even cozier and more intimate.

Sophie sat down on the couch, savoring the moment. The music relaxed her, and she allowed herself to unwind a bit, letting go of the tension. Stephen played with such skill that it was mesmerizing.

When the melody faded, Stephen stood up and approached her.

— I play when I want to calm my mind, — he said, sinking onto the couch beside her. His voice sounded soft, like the music itself.

— It was beautiful, — Sophie said quietly, looking at him. Her heart began to race again. She felt something rising between them again, something she couldn't control.

— Thank you, — Stephen said, not taking his eyes off her. — You are like music too, Sophie. Quiet, gentle, yet at the same time stirring excitement.

Sophie froze at his words; they sounded so unexpected and so close to what she was feeling. Stephen slowly approached her, his hand gently touched her cheek.

— I like you, — he said almost in a whisper.

Sophie looked at him, not knowing what to say. They sat next to each other on the soft couch, and although they were surrounded by the coziness and warmth of his apartment, the tension was still palpable between them. Their conversation started off easily, but then transitioned into something deeper, more personal. Sophie wanted to get to know Steven better, and he seemed to read her mind perfectly already.

— Did you come from Italy? — she asked, looking at him. — Tell me about yourself, I want to get to know you better.

Stephen looked at her with a slight smile, but his eyes were full of seriousness.

— You won't be able to escape your thoughts, Sophie, — he said quietly, his voice calm but with a hint of warning.

She felt her inner tension rising again. But it was not fear; it was something else—an anticipation, a desire to understand what was happening between them.

— Go on, I answered your questions back then, — she insisted, not averting her gaze. — I want to know who you are.

Stephen hesitated for a moment, as if deciding how far he should go in his revelations.