The echo of laughter and clinking glasses still lingered in Gigi’s ears as she left the ballroom that night, the sound following her down the marble corridor like a ghost she couldn’t shake. Chandeliers still burned behind her, spilling golden light on polished marble, but the farther she walked, the heavier the night felt pressing against her shoulders.
Her heels clicked rhythmically against the pavement as she stepped outside, Isabella at her side, her friend’s hand gently linked with hers as though she could sense that Gigi was unraveling. Sultana trailed behind them, her perfume sweet but cloying, the curve of her lips betraying a faint satisfaction that Gigi couldn’t place.
“You were quiet back there,” Isabella finally said once they were in the waiting cab. “Too quiet. What’s going
