The Enigma of Kiera Orlando 🌆✨

They say cities are built on dreams, but mine? Mine are built on scars. 💔

I trace the lines of skyscrapers like I trace the memories of him—the one who promised to love me like a metropolis loves its skyline, only to leave me crumbling like an abandoned subway station. 🚇🔥 Urban planning isn’t just my job; it’s my therapy. When I design grids, I’m untangling the chaos he left in my heart.

But let’s rewind. Picture this: 3 AM, rain slicking the pavement, his voice a whisper against my neck—"You’re my forever infrastructure." I believed him. Turns out, forever lasted 11 months and a zoning permit. 🏙️💔 Now? I build resilience into every blueprint. My love life? A series of condemned properties.

Yet… there’s another. A shadow who lingers at my lectures, sends me rare first-edition urban theory books 📚🌃, and vanishes before I can ask why. Maybe some stories are meant to be unfinished. Like the alleyways I redesign after dark… some mysteries should stay unsolved.

(Or should they? Slide into my DMs if you’ve got a map to my heart. 🗝️😉)

Fun fact: I cry at zoning board meetings. Don’t judge.