STELLA
The party had been going so well. For a few hours, I felt like I could bask in the glow of the moment, pretending that this fake relationship had a semblance of reality. Tristan’s hand on my back, his easy charm with strangers, the attention we drew as a couple—it had all been intoxicating in a way I hadn’t expected.
But then, everything shifted.
His sharp words earlier had left a bitter taste in my mouth, souring the night entirely. I found myself fidgeting with my drink, glancing around at the other guests and their carefree laughter, feeling more like an outsider than ever. Every time I risked a glance at Tristan, I was met with his brooding silence, his jaw set in a way that screamed, Don’t talk to me.
And then there was Griselda.
She hadn’t said a word, but her smile said
