Henry and Andrea stepped back into the main flow of the party, the string lights overhead casting a warm golden glow over the thinning crowd.
The jazz band had slowed to a sultry, late-night tempo, and the rooftop felt less like a battlefield and more like the elegant event it was meant to be. His hand stayed firmly at the small of her back, steady and warm, the quiet, intimate moment they had shared by the railing still humming between them like a private secret no one else could touch. Andrea’s chest felt lighter after opening up about her mother, but the night still carried its weight.
Eleanor’s sharp, judging stare from across the room, the curious eyes of every guest who had watched the CEO stay glued to her side all evening, the constant, nagging sense that she was being measured a
