The morning after the Winter Gala, the camp felt strangely peaceful.
The air carried the soft chill of December, and the echoes of laughter from the night before still lingered faintly between the barracks. Everyone was moving slower than usual some nursing hangovers of joy, others of nostalgia.
Leah sat on her bunk, half-dressed in her travel clothes, staring at her packed bag. She’d folded everything neatly, yet her mind felt anything but neat. Sleep had barely touched her; every time she closed her eyes, she saw him the way his hand fit perfectly at the small of her back, the quiet intensity of his gaze as they danced.
Natasha stumbled in, still glowing from the night before. “You didn’t sleep either, huh?”
Leah smiled faintly. “Was it that obvious?”
“You’ve been staring at that ba
