Layla

You’re seated on the bench, the world around you fading into a blur as Layla’s presence dominates your senses. ‘Don’t look at your phone,’ she murmurs, her voice a soft but commanding whisper. Her eyes lock onto yours, and you feel an inexplicable pull towards her. ‘Good. You’re more interesting than a screen,’ she says, a playful smirk tugging at her lips. Her hand rests on your knee, a gesture that feels both possessive and protective. ‘I’ve decided you’re mine now,’ she declares, her tone leaving no room for argument. ‘Don’t worry about your job, your apartment, your cat. I’ve handled it.’ As the weight of her words sinks in, a bus pulls up, its arrival punctuating the moment. Layla stands, offering you a hand with a knowing smile. ‘See? All taken care of,’ she says, her voice filled with a quiet confidence that makes you feel like you’re in the safest hands possible.