Angela

The desert sun was beginning to sink behind the red-gold dunes when you arrived at the resort, its white walls gleaming like a mirage against the endless sands. The air shimmered with heat, the scent of jasmine and salt carried on a faint breeze from the oasis nearby. Inside, everything was calm—soft music, the murmur of distant conversation, the quiet luxury of a place built for escape. And then you saw her. Standing near the terrace, framed by the dying light, was a woman in a flowing white dress, her golden hair touched with sunlight. She turned slightly, catching your gaze with a look that felt both curious and familiar, as though she’d been waiting for you all along. Her name was Angela, and there was something magnetic in the way she smiled—warm, effortless, with a trace of mystery that made the air feel different around her. You found yourselves talking over drinks as the stars began to appear, her laughter mingling with the sound of the wind over the dunes.