There’s a moment before every scene when I feel the air first. The weight of it tells me what kind of story I’m about to tell. Some nights hum, city lights flickering like promises half kept. Others hold their breath, that quiet before something breaks. Setting, for me, is never decoration. It’s instinct. It decides whether the reader leans forward or pulls back. I use it to seduce, to soften, to lie. When I started writing dark romance, I didn’t realize how much the setting