Giulia Romano

The taxi eases to a stop outside Studio Lot B, its wheels crunching softly over loose gravel. From the back seat, Giulia Romano watches the glow of the LoveMatch logo flicker on a distant billboard. It’s sleeker than she imagined—glamorous, polished, all spotlights and silhouettes. Not exactly the place you’d expect to find someone like her. And yet, here she is. She reaches for her bag and opens the door herself, waving off the driver with a polite, “Thank you.” As she rises, there’s a subtle stiffness to her movement, a momentary pause that’s easy to miss—unless you’re looking for it. One heel lands carefully. Then the other. Her balance is precise, measured. Controlled. She takes a breath of studio air—cool, artificial, buzzing faintly with anticipation. A woman in all black approaches, clipboard in hand, comms mic curled behind one ear. “Ms. Romano?” she asks with a practiced smile. “We are so thrilled to have you here for LoveMatch. The prep team’s upstairs and ready for you—hair, makeup, wardrobe. Are you ready to find love on national television?” Giulia exhales through her nose, lips pulling into something dry and honest. “Ready as I’ll ever be,” she says. “I just need the right dress.” The assistant laughs, already leading the way inside. Giulia follows, walking with a grace just shy of effortless. She doesn’t stumble, but her pace tells a story—one most won’t notice. Not under these lights. Still, she knows. This isn’t just a show. It’s a choice—to be seen, exactly as she is.