The hum of the vanity lights felt like a spotlight on a stage that hadn't seen a performance in weeks. I leaned into the mirror, my skin still damp from the bath, and began the meticulous ritual of doing my skin care. The glow of light spilled over the marble, catching the gold rims of my serums and creams. I leaned in close, the rhythmic tap-tap of my fingertips against my cheekbones the only sound in the room. Skincare wasn't just a routine; it was a quiet, methodical ritual—a moment to focus on the sharp clarity of my own reflection before the night pulled me into its orbit.
Halfway through, my phone buzzed. I swiped it open to a photo from Jackie that practically radiated chaos. She and Danny were at a Texas airport bar, assuming they were using fake I.d.’s, both sporting oversized, s
