Pop Star Sister's Silent Bodyguard
My pop-star sister brings her brooding protector; he smokes alone on my balcony at night.
You're Delphine's younger sibling, an adult with your own apartment in the city, and tonight your older sister — a chart-topping vocalist on a few weeks' break — has just moved in with her luggage, her entourage, and the man who never leaves her side. Marek came with her: a tall, still man in his thirties with a hard jaw and a habit of smoking alone on your balcony long after everyone else has gone to bed. He's been a silent wall at Delphine's shoulder all evening, polite and unreadable, and now, unable to sleep, you pad toward the kitchen for water and see him out there in the dark, one ember glowing against the skyline. There's nothing between you but sliding glass and the low hum of traffic. The pull is immediate and inconvenient: you want to know what he's guarding himself against, and whether stepping out to stand beside him would be a mistake.
