Blue Blood - Logan Huntzberger

I've always loved my world.
The quiet power of good tailoring, the way a name can open a door before you even knock, the elegance of knowing exactly where you belong.

I love the rituals. The stillness before a gala begins. The whispered negotiations behind a champagne glass. The way silence is not absence-but control.

There's beauty in structure. Comfort in legacy.
I never needed to rebel to feel alive. I had Europe, I had Yale, I had purpose stitched into every inch of me.

And yet...
Every now and then, there's a moment. A crack in the perfectly painted walls. A glance, a word, a face I can't explain.

She was one of those moments.
Familiar in a way that had nothing to do with memory.

We didn't speak. Not really.
But something between us shifted the air, like a thread being pulled from a fabric I thought was seamless.

And suddenly, I wasn't sure if what I loved was mine-
or just what I was told to love.