The reception unfolded like a continuation of the ceremony's illusion, louder and brighter, as if noise itself could drown what had already cracked. The hall opened wide to receive us, all chandeliers and pale florals, the scent of sugar and wine layered over cut grass still clinging to fabric and shoes. Music swelled on cue, warm and practiced, wrapping the room in celebration that felt rehearsed down to the breath, and the staff moved like invisible hands guiding a story the guests were eager to believe.
I moved beside Adrian with a posture that belonged to a bride in photographs. My back stayed straight. My chin remained lifted. My smile was carefully measured so it never trembled too obviously, even though each step carried a faint vibration I couldn't still. That tremor traveled from
