SCARLETT
I barely heard the chatter around me—the world felt like it had dulled to a low, static hum. My shoes clicked against the marble floor, but even that sound felt distant. I was walking fast, each step powered by anger and disbelief. My heart pounded erratically in my chest like it was trying to tear its way out.
Then I felt it—a hand on my arm. Warm. Firm. Familiar.
I froze.
Slowly, like the world was moving in slow motion, I turned.
Vincent.
His eyes searched mine, uncertain, stunned. There was something in his expression—recognition fighting with denial. His lips parted like he wanted to say something, but no words came.
His hand remained on my arm. I could feel it trembling slightly.
"Who are you?" he whispered, like he wasn't sure it was really me.
I stared back at hi
