Freja's POV
The cool night air wrapped around us as James and I stepped out of the cinema, the lingering tension of the horror film still in my mind. The soft glow of the streetlights created long shadows on the pavement, and the occasional beep of the cars driving by reminded me that we were once again in the real world. But even in the midst of the city life that enveloped us, my thoughts were elsewhere—to a memory that had been etched in my mind for eternity.
A faint smile danced on my lips as I looked at James, my eyes twinkling with amusement. "I recall distinctly when I discovered that you were a werewolf," I said, my voice laced with playfulness and nostalgia. The memory played through my mind like an old film, all its details clearly drawn. "Later that night, I was planning on going see a scary movie. I was really psyched for it, but then, would you believe it, got caught in traffic. It was awful—carmob jam, people were horn-blasting and all that, my patience was verging on its
