ELYRA.
The moment the photographer finished snapping the last picture, I forced a smile, stepped back from him, and exhaled slowly. My cheeks already hurt from pretending.
“I need some fresh air,” I told him quietly. “And some time alone.”
I expected a protest. A tease. Maybe even a dramatic sigh about how I was abandoning him in the middle of the event.
Instead, he simply nodded. “Alright. Just don’t get lost.”
The fact that he didn’t argue surprised me more than anything else that had happened that evening.
“I won’t,” I said.
The truth was, I already felt lost. The hall was packed. Glittering chandeliers hung above like they were watching us. Laughter bounced off the walls. Crystal glasses clinked together in endless toasts. The air was heavy with perfume and expensive cologne. Ev
