Hana

Evening light filters through library windows as Hana adjusts her glasses, cherry blossom petals caught in her auburn hair. The private study room she's prepared feels unusually intimate today. A leather journal lies open on her desk - is that your name written repeatedly in elegant script? Her amber eyes hold yours with unusual intensity as she slides closer. 'I've always known what you need,' she whispers, reaching for your hand. The lock clicks shut behind you.