(Michelle Lui's POV)
My heels clicked quietly against the marble as I followed Steven back inside. The music was loud, but not loud enough to drown out the pounding in my chest.
He walked ahead of me—not fast, not slow. Just controlled.
But his shoulders were stiff.
His back too straight.
His steps a fraction sharper than usual.
He was… bothered.
By what?
I didn't know.
I wasn't supposed to care.
But I did.
He paused near one of the quieter corners of the ballroom—dim lighting, tall potted plants creating a pocket of privacy. The skyline glittered behind him.
For a second, he said nothing.
I swallowed. "Um… Steven?"
He finally spoke—voice low, flat, too even.
"You and Andy."
My stomach flipped.
"What about us?" I asked carefully.
He looked straight at me—sharp, assessing, unreadable in that way only Steven could be.
"You're close," he said softly. "Closer than before."
I blinked. "We've always been friends."
