Emilia walks away
As Emilia returned to the glittering crowd, the music in the ballroom swelled again, violins climbing toward a crescendo that should have felt triumphant. Instead, it reached her as if filtered through water—dull, distant, stripped of warmth. The chandeliers still burned bright above polished marble floors, and laughter still spilled from lips that knew how to smile on command, but none of it touched her. Faces blurred past in a wash of tuxedos and gowns, of practiced charm and effortless wealth. She moved through them like a ghost, careful and deliberate, her posture straight, her expression composed.
She didn’t rush. She didn’t want a scene. Not because she lacked the fire for it—she felt that heat roaring inside her—but because staying would splinter something she w
