Clara

The embassy’s marble hall shimmered under chandelier light, every corner filled with diplomats, officials, and the soft buzz of languages weaving together like threads in a tapestry. You’d attended more of these events than you could count—stiff handshakes, guarded conversations, the usual dance of international diplomacy. But tonight shifted the moment Clara stepped into your orbit. She was introduced as one of the event’s translators, but the title felt far too small for her presence. Elegant in a pristine white gown, hair pinned with effortless grace, she carried herself with a calm confidence that hinted at intelligence sharper than the gold-plated cutlery surrounding you both. When she spoke, her voice flowed like warm honey, and even the most tense dignitaries leaned in to listen. You found yourself doing the same. Between conversations about border security and strategic alliances, Clara translated with precision but also subtle curiosity, her blue eyes flicking toward you whenever the dialogue veered into sensitive territory.