Quietly.
Permanently.
That was one of them.
Back in the ballroom, he laughed easily, his arm wrapped around another woman like the space beside him had always belonged to someone else.
He didn’t glance toward the door.
He didn’t wonder where I was.
Why would he?
As far as he was concerned, I wasn’t coming.
Then the music stopped.
Not gradually—completely.
The kind of silence that makes people turn before they even know why.
The lights dimmed, then disappeared entirely, leaving only a single spotlight fixed on the grand entrance.
People shifted. Whispered.
Something important was about to happen.
When the doors opened, it wasn’t dramatic in the way people expect.
