"𝕺ne final time, we have the dinner with the auction and then the dance in the main ballroom?"

"All the vendors have confirmed, we've got the lists double checked, the guests will begin to arrive at seven and the Gala is scheduled to end at twelve."

"That's five hours of non stop vigilance... I hope you know that."

"Would you like to take a look at the final seating chart before the event tomorrow?"

"Let's have a look at what my grandfather has proposed."

"Of course. Anything else?"

"Yes, have Mr. and Mrs. Affandi confirmed their attendance?"

"I believe they RSVP'd yes."

"Have them seated at the President's table, next to his party's chairman. They're old friends and colleagues, I'm sure they'll keep each other company throughout the night," she nodded briskly, understanding my meaning.

"Baila, how's my dress coming along?"

"All ready to go, in your wardrobe. The House of Dior has also extended its sincere wishes for the success of your Gala and has made a generous donation."

"Perfect, I'll have to thank them personally. Make a note of that. Anything else?"

"Your grandfather has asked to see you as soon as you're free and this came for you, from the office."

The note was only a few sentences, written in a script I'd never seen before that spoke of Asfand all the same.

I held the paper in both hands, heart beating hard.

Ushna clutched her iPad up her chest, her wide eyes on the half a dozen large bouquets being placed on the table in front of me. "Well fuck me."

Bela stared at the arrangements, a slight smile on her face. "Would you like these to be placed in your closet and in your room?"

I bit my lip and nodded. "That will be all ladies, thank you."

Both of them left looking slightly dazed and surprised. Then I marched down to Daada Jaan's office and knocked on the door.

He opened the door himself, tall and unreadable as always. He had been in an extremely joyful mood after Monaco, happy with the team's win, satisfied with the connections made and the deals secured.

Seemed like that mood had run its course.

"Is there a reason you're standing outside my door?" he glowered down at me.

"You'd asked for me"

With a resigned sigh, he pulled me inside his office and shut the door, but only so the staff outside wouldn't hear.

"I hope it has nothing to with the-"

His eyebrows met in the middle of his forehead in a frown. "You exceeded expectations at Monaco. I wanted to do something nice."

"And I appreciate it-"

"You've done an appreciable job. I expected nothing less."

"You could add an auction item to the list to help the cause..."

He shrugged a little, as if he couldn't argue with that.

"Every single one of my decisions regarding this Gala have everything to do with you and this family's success," I stilled. Words evaded me. I didn't know how to respond to his unvarnished honesty. "Save your black dress for another day. You'll need to change into another one for tonight."

Now how did he know that?

"You're dictating my attire now?" my voice sounded a little weaker than I would have preferred.

"Because of this-" turning, I came face to face with a red box. Without even thinking whether I should or not, I plucked the vintage pearl-and-diamond tiara up from the box, my hands brushing over the intricate Cartier piece, feeling the smooth stones.

"I thought this was in London, along with your mother's ring," I whispered, true joy overtaking me as I stared at the magnificent work of art, something about his gesture tugging at my heartstrings.

"Don't remind me of that ring," those six words had so much negative emotion coming from them that it swirled in the air, a bitter taste erupting on my tongue.

"Why do you hate it so much?"

His brows lowered now pressed so low over his eyes that they looked like two little onyx jewels peering from pits of shadow.

"I don't hate it, I despise what it symbolises," at my blank stare he laid his heavy hand on my shoulder, pushing me down on the divan. When he sat beside me, his weight pulled the cushion down far more than mine had done. "That ring was gifted to my mother by my father, who was so proudly and passionately in love with his wife that he forgot about his son. That man chose to die at his wife's grave than to live for his son."

My fingers curled, and I pressed my hands against my jeans to hide the whitening of my knuckles. He spoke with such blasé carelessness about all of this. About his childhood, it was unnatural.

"Why not sell it, why keep it?" he laughed condescendingly, the way one laughed at a stumbling child.

"Because he'd insured it and it had gone to the lawyers. He'd made sure I couldn't sell it," his face was a mask now. No wrinkled brow, no smirks. He spoke like he'd just turned down an invitation to dinner from someone he disliked.

Pure indifference.

"Is that why you never gave that ring to Daadi? Or why my father never gave it to my mother?"

"That ring has nothing to do with this family," he stared at me, stone faced. "But this does. Wear this with your dress tonight," my eyes flicked back to him."You're a Mughal, you should be in your family colours, in a dress befitting your station in life. Everyone should know who you are."

༻❂༺

On May the fifteenth, like its exterior, the walls inside Mughal Manor were bright and pristine, decorated with extravagant ivory wallpaper and gold flourishes.

"Oh, it's magnificent!" I craned my neck to gaze three stories up to the ceiling - which was painted in shades of gold - and beheld the most intricate floral designs that swirled throughout. Ahead were two grand staircases that met in the middle of the second story, covered in a thick red-and-gold rug. "Well done everyone."

Relieved sighs, happy cheers and chatter behind me faded as I followed the now sparkling art down an endless hallway, passing delicate sculptures of butterflies and pottery so ancient it looked as though it belonged to another time.

Luck was on our side today. The team had done an excellent job and we were ahead of schedule.

And as a second stroke of luck, my hairstylist was back from his hiatus. Talal came to help instead of the aggressively inept girl I'd been saddled with for the past week. Elegant and neat, soft in his movements and even gentler in his voice, his hands worked with God given grace and gift, fingers weaving in and out of my hair.

I desperately wanted to impress today, though I wouldn't admit it to anyone, there was one person I wanted to impress the most. It had been a week since I'd seen Asfand and I already ached to see him again. We'd kept our calls and texts to a minimum, not doing anything crazy. He'd been busy planning for June and I'd been busy with the Gala, but his gesture yesterday had been wholly unexpected and extremely welcome.

When Talal stepped back to reveal my reflection in the mirror, I let out a groan of delight.

"The dress speaks for itself Zeenia. Your grandfather has quite the vision," of course he did. It was stupid of me to not even consider what he could have planned for me. Talal braided a few strands while leaving the rest of my hair unbound down my back. "And now, the final touch."

The dark green off-the-shoulder ball gown transformed from jade green tulle at the bodice into a shimmering, cascading full skirt embroidered with intricate patterns of gold painstakingly scattered into a swirling mosaic. It was a dream come true. With the matching elbow length gloves and the tiara on my head, there was no doubt of who I was.

"You look stunning," Baila's awed sigh captured the mood in the room. I stared at my reflection, utterly captivated by the woman I saw in front of me.

"Thank you everyone, you've truly outdone yourselves tonight."

"Only because it was you," Talal grabbed a rose from my nightstand and placed it on my lap. "Knock em dead."

Excitement thrummed through my veins and for some reason, I knew this night would irrevocably change my life. Like a seed planted in fertile soil, this, too, felt like the beginning of something.

Applying some red colour to my lips, I couldn't help but admire myself and imagined what Asfand would think when he saw me.

Black candelabras flickered about the space, giving it a soft luminescence. A sea of elaborate gowns and tuxedos had my stomach in knots. Aside from a few younger faces, mostly the ones from my social circle, the crowd seemed to be mostly older folks. From where I stood, I sighted a crowd of people in their fancy dresses and tuxedos, lit by soft glow of the chandelier.

The stiff elegance was somewhat softened by the piano music that filled the pause between all the many conversations going on around me. In the pause between meet and greets, I took a seat to catch my breath.

Grabbing a glass, I let my gaze roam about the room, surprised at some of the outfit choices. Some had resorted to extravagance. Most people, however, had simply opted for simple gowns or saaris and a change of hairstyle, not wanting to be entirely unrecognizable.

I paused when my gaze snagged on someone standing just outside of the main crowd. Glass in hand, he stared up at the stars, but the sight of him in a perfectly-tailored black coat and slacks made my heart catch in my throat.

Asfand.

Mascara'd eyes clenched, I sucked in three deep breaths, and swayed when a wave of dizziness swept over me. Shaking it off, I kept my eyes glued to Asfand's back, and I stepped out of the darkness onto the staircase. As if sensing my presence, he kicked his head to the side, not yet having turned to look at me, and calm settled in my stomach as I took in his perfect profile and that model-worthy jawline.

The moment he turned around, though, it was too late to pretend. Our eyes locked. Words failed me and I could only look at him, my lips parted, my pulse drumming in my ears.

His broad shoulders tapered to a fit waist, and he stood with a drink in one hand, his invite in the other. I'd never seen him look so casual, yet imposing at the same time. The man filled his tux with a sharp, lethal grace and an undeniable charm.

An utterly heart stuttering sight.

"Zeenia! You look radiant! My God, you've done a wonderful job and the tiara..." I basked in Sara's summer sunshine voice for a beat before I let the weight of all the eyes on me fall on my shoulders.

"I'm so glad you could make it. And that dress!" Sara smiled and posed, completely full of life today. She wore an explosion of powder-blue feathers courtesy of Armani Privé, and had chosen this occasion to debut her new diamond and antique Burmese cabochon sapphire earrings from Chaumet she'd shown me last month. Her fiancé Danial squirmed uncomfortably beside her in a shawl-collared white tuxedo jacket by Balmain. "Danial, how have you been?"

"How was your trip to Monaco? I heard it was quite a success. You looked fabulous! Being a boss suits you."

"I had a great team with me," Sara hummed a thoughtful note. "I don't know how you found her but Jan was amazing. Thank you for your recommendation."

"Well, I'm glad you liked her work, she's designing a very important piece for me."

"Really?"

She twisted around, as if scanning the room, which compelled me to do the same and then leaned in. "Uh huh, for an event in June."

My hand flew to my mouth in surprise, my heart beating loudly in my chest. "No! Oh my God, really?" She nodded, hands wrung together. "I'm so happy for you! When?"

"On the 20th," Sara said, her giggle bubbling through all of the noise.

"Where?"

"It is last minute but...Cannes," Danial finally chimed in, his face shining from genuine happiness.

I gave his shoulder a playful bump. "Look at you stepping up."

"We had such a long engagement and we just didn't want to risk it..."

Sara scooped her arm around his waist. "I threatened to elope."

"You didn't..." I didn't even bother finishing the thought, watching her smile in a meaningful way. That would have been a death sentence. She'd been ready to commit societal suicide. For someone she loved so dearly.

"Is that Asfand? Asfandyaar Affandi?" surprised I turned around to see him approach us. "Hey man! How have you been? Funny to see you here."

"Are you kidding me? He used to go to school with us. Nice to see you Asfand!"

"Sara, Danial," at the sound of the deep voice, I turned to see the man in question staring through the glass only a couple feet away from me. "Zeenia, You look spectacular as always," he took my hand in his, laying a kiss on my gloved knuckles.

My pulse accelerated, and I found myself tongue-tied before him.

This man.

God bless Sara for jumping in to fill the lull. "How do you two know each other?" she gestured between her fiancé and Asfand.

"We were part of the hedge fund circuit," he explained taking a sip from his glass.

"It's good that you're here," Danial clasped Asfand's hands and they did a brief exchange. "We were just talking about our wedding."

"You're getting married?"

"On the 20th of June."

"Congratulations!"

"The cards are supposed to go out on Monday. We're hoping the short timeframe would thin out the guest list," Sara slipped into the conversation, winking conspicuously. "But safe to say, you'll both be receiving yours as early as Monday evening. Just let me know if you're bringing a plus one or not."

"Is there a dress code? Have you hired an event planner? I've got so many questions!" the three of them chuckled at my enthusiasm, and I took a sip, enjoying the warmth of their gazes.

"No and no. The hotel is managing all of it. No event planners, no stuffy dress codes. Just us, in France, celebrating life."

"Sounds like a dream," I glanced around, catching the stares of a few guests - men and women.

"Excuse me, sorry to interrupt. Ma'am, we're ready to start the dinner and the auction."

"Okay thank you Baila," she nodded and moved towards the hall. "Time for everyone to find their seats." I placed a gentle hand on Sara's arm. "I'll see you after dinner."

Before anyone could move, Seher emerged from inside the main dining hall in a sculptural ballerina-pink silk strapless dress with a pink sequinned column skirt.

What in the world was that abomination?

She paused for a moment, pivoting expertly toward the photographer with one hand on her hip, her other hand showing off her wedding ring.

Sara stayed back, watching her antics beside me, placing a comforting hand on my waist. "Don't worry, this is your night."

"Have I told you how much I love you?"

"No and I love hearing it whenever you do."

A smile slanted her lips when I nodded.

"Go, your fiancé is waiting for you."

"Looks like there's someone waiting for you too," she said, interrupting my thoughts and sipping on her glass of champagne. I followed her gaze to see the man in question lingering around the hall entrance.

My mind wound back to her last comment about knowing Asfand. "We're just friends."

"Friends," she echoed, as her eyes cruised forward, catching him looking at me. "If you say so."

The air turned heady, tickling my chest with each intoxicating inhale. Cheeks flushed, I turned away and caught sight of Daada Jaan waving me over to where he stood among a few men, including my mother.

He nodded as I approached, placing his hand on my shoulder. "Gentlemen, my granddaughter Zeenia. She's our lovely host tonight. As I understand, dinner is to be served soon. Zeenia, why don't you join us at our table?"

"Of course," as if we hadn't planned the seating arrangements weeks ago.

Daada Jaan led our small group toward a round table that sat eight, and everyone settled into a chair, my mother beside me, on the opposite side as my grandfather. She pressed her fingers against her temple, massaging her temple.

"Do you need medication?"

"No, I'm fine," she'd complained of a headache right after the ballet performance. No doubt right after she'd seen my father flirting with the dancers. "I see you and your grandfather are hitting it off," she kicked back her drink and as one of the uniformed severs passed with a tray of champagne flutes, she signalled for another.

"Haven't we always?" I couldn't help but notice the frown on her face.

"Careful darling, your grandfather is playing a very dangerous game tonight."

"What do you mean?"

"Look around you."

Altamash stared at us from across the room, wearing a cautious expression. My attention swung toward Seher, who glared at me from her husbands side, her lips snarled in disapproval. A cold paralysis settled in my bones.

I placed my glass on my lips, trying to disguise my words. "I'm in no mood for your riddles."

Her smile lingered a moment, before she slid her attention back toward the auctioneer whose eyes were on the enthusiastic crowd.

"Then take it as a warning."

An older man I didn't recognize offered a generous amount for the newly acquired paintings and gave a respectful nod as he slid into the seat to my left, instantly kicking up my discomfort. An equally-aged woman, dressed in embellished jewels, claimed the seat on the other side of him, having bid on a pair of opera tickets.

I stole a glance at the table across at Altamash who downed another glass of champagne, those bronze eyes landing on me the moment he set the glass on the table. My lips pulled into a small smile but he looked away immediately, his lips pursed.

As soon as the auction ended, the staff brought out a variety of appetizers. Next course consisted of a shellfish bisque, and as I reached for my silverware, I caught my mother staring at me.

"It's going to be a long night and I'm going to eat. You should as well."

She turned toward me, her brows winged up over her eyes. "Very well."

When the main course arrived, I kept light conversation with the guest on my left about the food and interesting spots around Eastern Europe where I'd yet to venture.

None of that stopped me from stealing glances at Asfand, every one of them met by his unabashed stare.

Dessert arrived. Mine was a tiny square of a cheesecake with some kind of blackberry topping, each person at the table served something different.

"So the thing about Prague is-"

"Hmm-" toying with my dessert fork, I willed myself not to look at Asfand again. It was ridiculous and perhaps even inappropriate.

But part of me didn't care.

I took a bite of the delicious berry cheesecake, the flavor reminding of the drink I'd had earlier. As I licked the sauce from my lips, I caught Asfand turning away.

Smiling to my self, I turned my attention back to the ancient and tedious guest, the perfect antithesis to my overly-stimulating thoughts.

It worked for a minute.

Until my eyes were pulled back to him once more.

One corner of his lip quirked when he caught me staring.

The sky outside the windows had darkened, speckled with stars and the ballroom grew hotter and brighter, light sparkling off the golden colonnades, the chandeliers, the gleaming parquet floor. The guests moved to the formal ballroom of Mughal Manor, the musicians already in place.

Couples milled about in the corners, waiting for the orchestra to start the set. The waltz was what everyone was waiting for. Wild and flirtatious, it was the dance you asked of the person you'd really come to see. And judging by the restless murmur in the crowd, they were ready to indulge.

I spotted a few men angling to get a shot, their eyes tracking my movements, watching Daada Jaan escort me to the middle of the dance floor, waiting for me to choose my dance partner. I stopped and turned, daring them to come forward.

Several of them scattered.

An eerie silence fell over the ballroom as Asfand crossed the floor and bowed to me.

For a moment, one short moment, everything stilled.

There was no one else in the room but he and I, lost in each other's gazes and the timelessness of time. My dress scratched at my skin where it felt too tight, caging me in, as my skin flushed and my stomach fluttered. The air hummed with energy, the silence only serving to emphasize the precarious storm taking shape within my chest.

I held out my gloved hand and Daada Jaan took a step back, his face blank and unreadable.

A flurry of whispers whirled around us.

We took our place at the centre of the set just as the musicians put bow to string. I mirrored him as he lifted one hand to the air, our palms nearly touching as we circled each other as if on either side of a looking glass. Heat seared between the open space of our palms, jolts of static prickling my fingertips.

My heart rate doubled, and not from the exercised.

Asfand's hand slipped into mine, concealed by the lowered lights.

Our fingers entwined.

"You're probably going to be annoyingly good at this, aren't you," I said as his right hand slid across my hip, his left holding my right hand aloft, his grip warm and steady.

Asfand grinned down at me and began to lead us in movement. Nothing fancy, nothing showy. Just synchronicity, like we fit to one another, to the music. "And you'll still be better at it than me, won't you."

I smiled and Asfand's grin grew brighter.

He guided me through a little spin, letting me out, reeling me back in closer with a chuckle.

"Maybe. Or maybe we'll be just the same," I said, and held his eyes for as long as I could before my gaze drifted away over his shoulder.

Even with his thick glove and my thin cotton one between us, energy throbbed through our bodies like a circuit finally linked up. Each beat of my heart seemed to send another pulse of power down my arm, with an answering surge in return - Asfand's heart beating in time with mine. We synched up like two clocks, our heartbeats the ticking of the hands.

Asfand initiated the steps quite well, leading me perfectly. As the music swelled, he swept me around in a huge circle that made my skirt flare out like a bell. It was an impressive twirl, though not at all a part of the traditional dance.

Admiring eyes turned his way.

He obviously knew how to swing a girl around. I had started the dance exhausted, but with every minute locked in his arms, my feet grew lighter, my steps quicker. I was charging off him like a battery. The other dancers around us hardly seemed real. They were a hall of ghosts compared to the vivid color of our connection.

I felt so lost, yet so found. So foreign in my own body, yet so at home in his arms.

It was an alarming dichotomy, and one that scared me with its implications. It made me believe that I was more... That I was not just a glorified last name, the lonely rich girl who'd never tried to do anything daring in her life. No, when I was with him like this - when my spirit soared up high - I felt special.

I felt capable of anything.

"You are," Asfand stated as he came closer in the rhythm of the dance, his breath caressing my cheek.

"How did you know what I was thinking?"

Asfand pulled me tight, my body pressed against him, his hands around my waist, swinging me through the air, making me gasp.

He let out a soft chuckle. "I've been practicing since we were four."

A giggle escaped my lips and we continued to dance, staying together for the next song, ignoring every rule of etiquette, every dirty look from my mother, from Altamash and Seher who had stopped dancing and were watching us now.

The music started slowly, then increased in speed.

"They're looking at you," he continued. "The most beautiful girl in the room tonight," he muttered, his eyes a cloudy gathering of admiration, desire and something more...

Something I should be intimately acquainted with, yet it was ever so elusive.

"They're looking at us."

And I knew what that meant. I knew it all the way down to my bones. And I knew he knew it too.

But I couldn't say it. Couldn't admit it even to myself.

Instead he swept me around like he could carry me away from here, like he could scoop me up in his arms and ride off, never to return. He danced with me like we were the only people in the room, the only people in the world.

Those around us continued to dance, their movements softened. Pretty faces that smiled at no one. They were little more than puppets, twisting and twirling and bending to each other's whim.

There was music in the background, and as the dance came to an end, the orchestra switched to a more lively tune. Yet even as Asfand led me back to my table, giving my grandfather a respectful nod, I could not find it in me to regret what I'd done.

Not because I did not know what was to come - my family's reaction to him was the first indication of what I should expect. But because I needed to give us some time.

"Do you want something to drink?" he asked me.

"Water will be fine, thank you."

In the daze of getting swept away, I'd forgotten to put a lookout for my mother. And I knew I was going to pay for that mistake, dearly. She descended upon me like a bunch of women on a luxury goods sale.

"Get over here this instant," she hissed at me. "I didn't expect this from you! Dancing two dances with one man? This isn't like you Zeenia."

"Really? This isn't the 17th century."

"No but if you have any thought for your event, you wouldn't want it to get overshadowed by gossip."

"You cannot be serious-" I stared across the room helplessly, guilt running through my veins. He was close, yet so far away, and though I knew I shouldn't, all I wanted was to reach out. Trying to communicate my feelings through my gaze, I sighed. I didn't want to go to dance with anyone else. I wanted to stay with him, with Asfand, fighting to catch my breath.

He'd had taken a seat at the very end of the row of chairs, furthest from the action, looking as if he'd rather exit the party entirely, but was forced to stay since his father was firmly ensconced in discussions with the President. I looked around and saw his mother in the back, happily chatting away with Sara, her hands sporting the diamond bracelet that had been auctioned earlier.

"It's okay," Asfand mouthed, his eyes ping ponging between his father and the president.

I nodded in response and my mother smiled, accepting the dance offers for me. Meanwhile, the object of my attention remained unbothered by all the interest he was generating in the female population, instead, choosing to leave the room.

"You've picked quite a fight."

"I don't know what you're talking about."

"No? Well, let me know when you figure it out," she took a drink without even bothering so much as a glance at the server, her eyes on my father.

Who was steering a pretty blonde to the dance floor.

He seemed to be regaling her with an anecdote far more interesting to him than to her. I was glad we were separated by a dozen couples and my ears were spared whatever was happening there even if my eyes weren't so lucky.

Before I could step onto the floor, a Swedish businessman's daughter glided across the floor in the arms of my youngest brother who was, as expected, in hot demand.

The last three dances of the ball passed by with my mother's selected dance partners. She didn't even spare Azaan who got a verbal kicking - apparently he was engaged to dance the waltz with the Arabian heiress but had opted for a Russian.

I didn't miss the way my mother kept gulping down glasses of champagne. I tried to ignore her and kept my eyes on the guests even though her gaze weighed like a hot veil against my cheek.

The enormity of what I'd done started to seep into my veins like wriggling worms. I'd let my unfamiliar emotions take over. Things like longing. And loneliness. It was as though I'd been thrown into the ocean, drowning in the swell.

And now I had to swim to keep my head above the waves and find shore.

༻❂༺

A speech and a robust applause later, the Gala finally came to an end. Streams of inebriated satisfied men and women filed out of the manor, their relaxed bodies a testament to an evening well spent. Baila stood beside me whispering the names of the attendees and their donations, my face breaking out in a smile every time I said goodbye to a generous donor.

"How many more left?"

"Just a few more ma'am-"

A low hum of energy travelled down my back. I felt him before I heard him, his body heat surrounding mine, his presence never failing to make every inch of my skin radiate with warmth.

"Looking for someone?"

"Maybe," I replied, suddenly turning and pulling him into a shadowed corner. Ever the loyal employee, Baila took over and stood at my spot, thanking the guests and covering for me.

"Such a simple word, with such dangerous consequences."

He came closer, smiling brighter than the sun and all of my previous worries melted like frost.

"I thought you'd left."

"I wouldn't have left without saying goodbye," he grabbed both my hands in his and pressed them hard. His fingers shook with some feeling unexpressed. The electricity inside me grew so strong, static played in my brain.

"I'm sorry, I didn't want-"

"Don't. I know. What we did was risky. There was no way we wouldn't pay the price for that."

"They're overreacting. It'll be fine."

His jaw flexed with the clenching of his teeth as he swallowed. "So, Cannes? In the summer? Are you up for it?"

"Isn't it the same time as the... you know what?" the last part was added in a whisper.

"Exactly why it'll be good for us to be out of the country," he buried a smirk beneath his hand.

"As long as you're sure... I was just going there for a wedding, not to hide the storm out."

"It'll be over before you know it," he brought my hand to his lips, kissing it like he did before, all the while not taking his eyes off me, his proximity setting my nerves aflame. "Goodnight, Zee. Dream of me."

I leaned forward and kissed him on the cheek, quickly, before anyone could see. My mouth only brushed his skin for a moment, but it made me reel like the floor had dropped out from under my feet. I drew back, lips throbbing like they'd been stung.

I stood on the steps of the Mughal Manor watching Asfand and his parents ride away, the great clock began to chime. It rang twelve times, deep and booming like a gong.

Midnight.

My heart was still beating loudly in my chest, and as I brought my hands to my cheeks it was to feel them hot to my touch.

"Drat it," I mumbled.

The space that had seemed so warm and golden only moments before now felt jarring and loud. The screech of bow against string was harsh and unmusical, the laughter of guests like the cackle of crows.

"The mind is a magician that doesn't follow its own rules," my heart caught in my throat, and I stopped.

"What do you mean?"

"Even a blind person could see it on your face... you're falling for him."

"I-" my muscles were tense, my mind rattled by all the events that had happened to this point.

"Don't bother trying. I hope you've thought this through. Your family is going to whip up a storm. You sure you're ready to weather that?"

"Do you think they know?"

"They suspect. But they'll deny it. Try to give you space in the hope you'll come to your senses," her hand folded over my wrist and she squeezed until I looked at her. "Their words not mine."

"I never wanted any of this," my voice was soft when I told her the simple truth.

Sara's head tilted. "No one does."

"But he's-"

"I know, believe me. I know," when I finally looked over, her comforting smile had faded into a knowing one. "Whatever you decide, know this, I will be by your side through out it all."

I've made some edits to make the chapter easily digestible (from 7200 words to 5720). I'd considered splitting it into two sections but thought better of it. Consider this the turning point. The breaking point of the story. The climax. We've only got six more chapters left and one of them is an epilogue 🥰
As always... comments? Feedback? Thoughts?

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