POV: Lily Navarro

By Friday, the air inside Kleinwelt Studio had started to shift.

Not drastically. Not loudly.

Just… enough.

The pitch project had evolved into something bigger. More ambitious. Julian was pushing for a proof-of-concept short film, which meant longer hours, more collaboration, and—unfortunately—more group discussions in Very Fast German.

Lily was surviving off of context clues and her notebook full of scribbled translations.

She’d started a page titled: “Words I Will One Day Say Without Panicking”

• überarbeiten – to revise
• zeichnen – to draw
• Kaffee holen – get coffee
• Ich kann das machen – I can do that
• Warum ist Matteo so hot and also rude? (Not real German. Yet.)
• 
  

She sighed and closed the notebook, only to find herself face-to-face with a familiar grin.

Santi.

Wearing a flannel shirt, rolled sleeves, and a confidence level somewhere around unbothered king. He leaned against her desk like he was auditioning for a charming rival role. Spoiler: he was.

“I was thinking,” he said casually, “you owe me coffee.”

She blinked. “Do I?”

“From the other day, remember?” He pointed at her sketchpad. “You said if I distracted your flow again, I could buy you something.”

“I never said yes.”

“You smiled,” he said. “Smiles are verbal contracts in my country.”

She laughed. “You’re impossible.”

“I prefer irresistible, but I’ll take that.”

He leaned in slightly. Just enough to be playful, not pushy.

“Come on. I found this new place near the canal. Very aesthetic. You can sketch the plants. I’ll pretend to be intellectual.”

Lily opened her mouth to respond—but her peripheral vision caught movement.

Matteo.

He was walking past the hallway, tablet tucked under one arm, eyes down.

Except the moment he passed Santi and Lily, he slowed. Just slightly.

His jaw tightened.

He didn’t say anything.

But his glance—quick and sharp—lingered.

Then he walked on.

Santi noticed.

“Does he always look like he’s about to deliver a monologue in a spy movie?” he asked.

Lily snorted. “He just… doesn’t like distractions.”

“Or competition,” Santi muttered under his breath, almost too quiet to catch.

She blinked. “What?”

He just smiled. “Nothing.”

Later that afternoon, Lily stepped into the printer room and found herself face-to-face with Julian.

Alone.

He was leaning against the windowsill, sipping tea like he was waiting for a dramatic scene to unfold. He smiled when he saw her.

“Ms. Navarro,” he said lightly. “Stealing paper again?”

“Only the good kind,” she said, holding up her printouts. “With texture.”

Julian chuckled. “You’ve settled in well.”

She shrugged. “Mostly. Still forget how to say ‘printer jam’ in German.”

“It’s Papierstau,” he said, smiling.

She blinked. “That sounds so… aggressive.”

He laughed. “German often does.”

She stepped beside him, scanning the foggy Berlin skyline through the window.

After a moment, she said softly, “Is it always like this here?”

Julian turned. “Like what?”

“Quiet. But full. Like everyone’s carrying something they don’t say.”

Julian tilted his head, curious. “What makes you think they’re not saying it?”

Lily thought of Matteo. Of how he watched without looking. Spoke without saying much. Drew like it hurt.

She shook her head. “Just a feeling.”

Julian was quiet for a beat. Then he said, “You have a good read on people, Lily. That’s rare.”

She flushed a little. “Thanks.”

He smiled at her, softer now. “If you ever need help… or just someone to speak slower German… you know where my office is.”

“I might take you up on that,” she said, eyes twinkling.

“For the German?”

“Sure,” she said. “Let’s go with that.”

Meanwhile, in a darker hallway on the opposite side of the studio, Matteo stared at a sketch in progress—unfinished.

He didn’t remember stopping halfway.

His mind kept flickering back to her laugh. Her smile. The way she leaned slightly toward Santi like she didn’t realize she was doing it.

His fingers curled tighter around his stylus.

This wasn’t supposed to matter.

She wasn’t supposed to matter.

And yet…

And yet.