The wedding planning session is finally winding down.
I'm sitting in the parlor, half-listening to Feifei debate between two nearly identical shades of white for the table linens, when I feel it.
A flush of heat that has nothing to do with the temperature in the room.
I shift in my seat, tugging at my collar, it's warm in here, has it always been this warm?
"Runze?" Feifei glances at me. "You okay? You look flushed."
"I'm fine, just warm."
Mother frowns. "The room isn't warm, dear. Are you feeling ill again?"
"No, I'm..." I trail off because another wave of heat rolls through me, this one stronger. My skin feels too tight, too sensitive. The fabric of my shirt is suddenly irritating.
What the hell?
"We should wrap this up anyway," Feifei says, checking her phone. "Mom, we need to go pick up those fabric samples from the shop before they close, and I wanted to stop by the florist to confirm the centerpiece order."
