Serenya's POV
The café hums with polite chatter and the hiss of steaming milk. I keep my pace even, balancing a tray of coffee cups and a folder of sheet music — props for a life no one questions. The ring hums faintly against my skin, its pulse slow, careful. I’m Serenity today — polite, harmless, a woman with soft hands and softer intentions.
The bell above the door chimes. Celestine Veyra steps in like she owns the light. Her perfume reaches first, then her laughter — bright, cruel, practiced. Two friends flank her, perfectly coordinated, orbiting her like obedient moons. She’s radiant in that tailored, careless way: winter-white coat, diamond buttons, sunglasses still on indoors. The kind of woman people turn to look at even when they don’t want to.
I shift slightly, positioning mys
