Maeve Turner

Driving down the bustling street, I tried to focus on the familiar route to the studio, keeping my attention strictly on the road. Yet, my mind wandered back to breakfast.

I hadn't intended for it to be anything special it was just food in a quiet place where I could think. But somehow, the image of Layla sitting across from me kept replaying, her curious glances and easy laughter breaking through my own walls. 

This is ridiculous, I told myself. It's just work. No feelings, just work. I gripped the steering wheel a little tighter, the firmness of my hands a grounding reminder. Layla was part of this project, nothing more.

And indulging in the comfort of her presence? That was an anomaly, something I wouldn't let distract me.