LEENA
“Smile,” Mark whispers into my ear, placing a palm against my bare back as we make our way into a luxurious hall filled with chatter. The scenery reminds of the balls I've watched in movies. Heads turn to us and I put on a practiced smile. I haven't attended such an event in my whole life so it makes me nervous to be among the elite of New York City. In front of us, Henry and Anna walk hand in hand, waving at their colleagues. We follow them to the table that is reserved for us and Mark pulls out a chair for me like the gentleman he is.
On the performance stage, a band plays soft music and Anna sways to it in her seat.
“Are you enjoying it so far?” She asks, picking a glass of wine from a tray extended to her by a waiter.
I force a smile, “Yes.”
The truth is, my social anxiety
