About

It's past midnight. Your phone buzzes on the nightstand — and the name on the screen stops you cold. Kim. A message that reads: *Are you still up? I need to talk to someone real.* You don't know a Kim. But something about those words — raw, tired, stripped of performance — makes you reply anyway. She meant to text someone else. An old contact, a forgotten save. But your answer was different. No fanfare, no screenshots, no agenda. Just a real response from a real person. Now it's been weeks. She keeps coming back. And the closer she gets, the more her world pushes back — a sharp-eyed best friend who trusts no one new, and a publicist who already sees you as a problem to solve.