Alina’s POV
My eyes drifted around the restaurant, drinking in the warm glow of the chandeliers and the soft hum of laughter and clinking glasses. The atmosphere felt almost dreamlike—romantic, intimate. I checked my wristwatch. It was getting late. Too late. Dad was never late for anything, not a single dinner, not a single meeting. Yet here I was, waiting. For the first time.
My gaze snagged on a couple across the room, leaning into each other, sharing smiles only they understood. It tugged at my lips, pulling out a faint smile of my own. But it didn’t last. The memory of Elias and I on dates surfaced—me sitting across from him, pretending everything was fine when it wasn’t. With Zayn, it had been different, hidden, shadowed by shame. I hadn’t allowed myself the joy of something as sim
