POV: Lily Navarro

By the time the car pulled up in front of the studio building, Lily’s nerves had gone from “mild panic” to “maybe-I-should-just-cry-here-and-sleep-on-the-curb.”

Her fingers were stiff from the cold. Her neck hurt from pretending to sleep on the plane. And her soul? Somewhere still hovering over the Arabian Gulf, probably watching Netflix with airplane mode on.

The Berlin air had slapped her awake the moment she stepped out of the terminal, but now, faced with the tall glass and brick structure of the building that housed Kleinwelt Studio, her exhaustion started to dissolve into something else:

Dread.
Excitement.
The terrifying realization that this was real.

She stared up at the sign by the entrance:
KLEINWELT STUDIO.
Small World.
Ironic, considering how far she’d flown.

Lily pulled her pastel pink hoodie tighter, took a shaky breath, and wheeled her suitcase through the doors.

The warmth hit her first—like a comforting sigh, wrapping her in the scent of paper, printer ink, and something faintly citrusy. Clean and quiet. She almost forgot to breathe.

The front desk receptionist looked up with a soft smile. Blonde, neat, probably the type who never had a wrapper in her tote bag or crumbs in her keyboard.

“Guten Morgen,” she said. “Miss Navarro?”

Lily blinked. “Y-Yes. That’s me.”

“You’re expected. Mr. Becker is coming down.”

Her heart skipped at the mention of Julian. He’d been nothing but kind and professional during the two years they’d worked together online. He’d always paid on time, offered helpful critiques, and praised her artwork without ever sounding patronizing. Still… she didn’t really know him. He was still a stranger. Everyone here was.

Before she could spiral into a thousand what ifs, the elevator dinged open—and there he was.

Julian Becker.

Taller than she imagined. Hair styled perfectly, like he didn’t just wake up at 4 a.m. to review spreadsheets. He wore a navy turtleneck and a long black coat that made him look like he owned both the studio and everyone’s souls. But his smile? It was warm. Real. The kind that made her feel less like a trembling newbie and more like a person who belonged.

“Lily,” he said, stepping toward her with a hand outstretched. “Welcome to Berlin.”

“Hi,” she said, trying not to sound breathless. “It’s… really cold.”

He laughed gently. “You’ll get used to it. Come, I’ll give you a tour before you collapse.”

The studio was bigger than she expected—open spaces, natural light pouring through the tall windows, desks with dual monitors, plants in ceramic pots, and walls covered in art. Not posters, but actual art. Storyboards. Color keys. Character turnarounds. A whole hallway lined with framed concepts.

Lily slowed her pace, catching sight of one piece she recognized immediately. A character she helped build—a tiny marshmallow-shaped knight with a wooden spoon as a sword. She’d sketched it at 2 a.m. once, laughing at her own silliness.

And now it was framed.

“Your work is well loved here,” Julian said beside her, as if reading her mind.

She smiled quietly. “I didn’t think anyone remembered it.”

He turned to her. “You underestimate your impact, Miss Navarro.”

Her face warmed instantly. “You can just call me Lily.”

“Then you can call me Julian.”

He continued leading her through the office, introducing her briefly to a few passing employees who waved or smiled, some wide-eyed when they realized this was the Lily they’d been emailing with for months. Her cheeks hurt from all the awkward smiling.

Eventually, Julian gestured toward a hallway. “Your desk’s this way. You’ll be working closely with the animation team. They’re quiet, but brilliant.”

She nodded, nerves bubbling back up.

Julian stopped at the far end of the floor. “And here we are.”

Lily froze.

Two desks, facing each other. One pristine and clearly hers—pink mouse pad, a welcome note in neat handwriting, a potted plant. The other… occupied.

Hood up. Headphones on. A mechanical pencil dancing across a sketchpad like it didn’t know how to pause. Black hoodie, silver rings, and a sharpness in the way he moved—like he didn’t need the world, and the world didn’t deserve him anyway.

Her chest tightened.

She recognized him.

Not from calls. Not from introductions. But from that one mistake—the time she’d joined the wrong Zoom meeting and landed in a room with a single person. His camera had been on. His face unreadable. He’d stared at her for all of two seconds before silently exiting the call.

Now he was sitting across from her.

Julian didn’t even glance his way. “This is your space. If you need anything, just let me know.”

He placed a folder on her desk. “There’s a new storyboard assignment in here. You’ve got the weekend to settle in. No pressure.”

She nodded, forcing a smile. “Thank you.”

And then he was gone.

The silence settled like a blanket—heavy and unfamiliar.

She placed her tote down gently, pulled out her sketchbook, and sank into the ergonomic chair that felt way too fancy for her imposter-syndrome-ridden body.

Across from her, he didn’t look up.

She fidgeted. Reached for her pencil.
Started to draw.

It was her comfort. Her safety.
Even when everything else was foreign, drawing felt like home.

She wasn’t sure how long passed before she heard it—a chair creaking.

She looked up.

Matteo Schäfer had finally glanced her way.

Dark eyes. Pale skin. A jawline sharp enough to slice through her anxiety. He looked at her like she was a new puzzle he didn’t ask for but couldn’t ignore.

She blinked, stunned into silence.

He held her gaze for a second too long.

Then, wordlessly, he turned back to his sketchpad.