Dinner at the Starlight Gardens restaurant unfolded like a symphony of restraint.
Crystal chimed against porcelain, laughter rose in perfectly timed waves, and every word carried a weight no one dared acknowledge.
Willow sat poised beside Zane at the long marble table, the picture of quiet elegance. Across from them, Christy's diamonds caught the candlelight; beside her, Miles raised his glass with the poise of a man rehearsing control.
Dinner resumed as though nothing had happened.
But across the table, every glance carried a new current.
Miles's charm was brittle now; Christy's laughter too sharp.
Zane was all composure again, though his knuckles stayed white around the stem of his wineglass.
And Willow — serene, unreadable — seemed to glide above it all, untouchable and radiant.
She needed air.
The wine, the tension, the stifling opulence — it pressed in from every side. Her pulse thrummed under her skin like a second heartbeat.
