I took one last look at my reflection before stepping out to meet August in the living room.
“I’m done,” I said — hours of preparation finally behind me.
“Thank you, guys,” I added, waving at the beauticians as they packed up.
August checked the time. “We’re going to be late.”
I smiled. “That was the plan.”
We headed toward the garage. The drive was smooth. Quiet. But the moment we pulled up in front of the house — that old, imposing structure — something inside me stirred. My skin prickled. I took a slow breath.
Music drifted out first — classical, polished, expensive. Laughter followed. Not joy, but obligation. The tension in the air pressed against my shoulders.
August parked and came around to open my door.
“Thanks,” I said.
“Ready?” he asked quietly.
I slipped my hand into h
