Celestine's POV
I don’t understand the sound my heart makes until it’s already too late to stop it.
It slams once, violently, like something has hit it from the inside—hard enough that my vision flickers at the edges. For a split second, I think I might actually sway. My fingers curl instinctively around the ring on my hand, not to show it, not to protect it from anyone else, but to feel it still there. Solid. Real. Anchoring me to the ground.
Mine.
And then she says it.
That ring you are wearing, Celestine, is mine.
For one impossible second, the hall ceases to exist.
The lights blur into indistinct halos. The crowd dissolves into a dull, distant roar, like I’m underwater. The stage stretches and warps in front of me, and all I can hear is the violent rush of blood in my ears, poun
