Before I could fully process the implication, he called my name, beckoning me onto the stage. Hesitation warred with the undeniable force of his will, but ultimately, I had no choice.
"Is she the lover he mentioned?
"No chance."
"Look at her......"
"But doesn't he have a fiancé?" I heard the murmurs, the scathing judgments.
"She’s so plain, why would he even pay attention?"
"His rumoured fiancée is damn f*****g hot and famous."
"No way, she’s a nobody, but he praised her in the beginning. If there's nothing, why would he?"
"Maybe he knows her, and because of her boldness he mentioned earlier, he called her."
The taunts and mocking whispers were a physical assault, but I forced myself forward, my stride a desperate attempt at defiance.
I reached the stage, my heart hammering again
