Kameliq_useshtam_te_oshte 📥

The neon signs of Sofia’s Vitosha Boulevard blurred into streaks of electric blue and magenta as Elena stepped out of the club. To the paparazzi waiting by the velvet ropes, she looked untouchable—the "Ice Queen" of the charts, reportedly moving on with a tech mogul or a football star, depending on which tabloid you read.

But as the heavy bass of the club faded, replaced by the cool night air, the facade began to crack. kameliq_useshtam_te_oshte

She climbed into the back of her car and closed her eyes. It happened every time she was alone. The scent of sandalwood and rain—his scent—seemed to cling to the leather upholstery, though he hadn't sat there in a year. "Home, Elena?" the driver asked. The neon signs of Sofia’s Vitosha Boulevard blurred

"I still feel you," she murmured to the empty seat beside her. She climbed into the back of her car and closed her eyes