Fake Date, Real Fate

I stepped inside, straightened my jacket, and ignored the glances that came my way like they always did. Rich families looking to sell off their daughters like investment portfolios. Pretenders trying to gain favor. Flatterers with handshakes too firm and voices too eager.

A man was already approaching me, probably someone Dad had worked with. I shook his hand absently, listening to him blabber about some development project I was supposed to pretend to care about. My gaze drifted past his shoulder—and froze.

There she was.

Again.

Like a rerun I couldn’t stop watching. Same wide eyes. Same full lips. Same mess that made something in me clench without permission.

Her hair was up this time. Her dress─simple, elegant─did things to my chest I refused to name. And her presence here made no sense. Not at a party like this. Not in this crowd.

I kept watching as she turned a corner─and brushed against someone.

Then the glass spilled.

And the girl in pink turned around.

I watched the whole thing unfold in eerie, cinematic slowness: the splash, the silent fury, the cold cruelty of the champagne, and then─

Then it happened.