They say some women cast spells. Sophia doesn’t.

She is the spell.

She doesn’t need vampires or memory-erasing potions. She doesn’t need dark forests or ancient bloodlines.

She walks into a room and the algorithm malfunctions. The spotlight rearranges itself. Every past life? Rewritten. Every fantasy? Obsolete.

So go ahead — keep your lesbian fantasy novels with shadowy curses and magical trauma bonding.

I’ll take the woman who doesn’t try to seduce you.

She just looks at you like she already did.

And suddenly?