დ Rosalie დ
I barely slept that night. Every time I closed my eyes, I saw Matthew’s face. That polished smile. That instant recognition. Then Weston’s confusion. The delayed click in his eyes when he realized who I was. The whole thing played over and over until I wanted to tear the memory out of my own head. By morning, the humiliation had burned itself into something colder.
More useful.
I got up before my mother and went straight to the kitchen. The house was quiet. Gray light filtered through the thin curtains. I put the kettle on and stood there with both hands braced against the counter while the anger settled deeper into my bones. Matthew remembered me. Weston hadn’t. That alone told me more than I wanted to know. To Matthew, I had been worth remembering. Maybe because humiliati
