Chapter 3

The ballroom was a cavern of crystal and gold, humming with the low, thrumming vibration of a hundred conversations overlapping into a single, suffocating roar. I had been standing for hours, my feet throbbing in the delicate, silk-strapped heels that looked more like jewelry than footwear, but the pain was a distant, dull ache compared to the fire burning in my chest. The reception was in full swing, a whirlwind of clinking glasses, swirling skirts, and the kind of performative joy that felt alien to the knot tightening in my stomach. And he was everywhere. He hadn’t left my side, not truly. He moved through the crowd like a shark through a school of minnows, polite nods, firm handshakes, a glass of champagne in hand, but his eyes were always finding me. Every time they locked onto mine, the air around us seemed to thin, the noise of the room fading into a muffled buzz. I was the bride, technically, but in that moment, standing near the grand staircase with a smile plastered on my face, I felt like I was being unwrapped. I excused myself, citing a need for air, or perhaps just a need to escape the prying