The house hummed with life, laughter and conversation weaving through the grand hall like a carefully orchestrated symphony. The scent of fine whiskey and aged wine lingered in the air, blending with the rich aroma of fresh floral arrangements and catered delicacies. Everything was perfect.
It had to be.
I stood beside Mark, my fingers resting lightly against the curve of my champagne flute. The delicate chill of the glass ground me as we greeted guest after guest. The night was a careful balance—a performance as much as it was a celebration.
Edward's retirement. Mark's ascension as CEO.
Our place, cemented. We were the perfect couple, poised and polished, exactly as we needed to be.
Edward, ever the master of the room, had made his rounds earlier but now stood slightly off to the side, a quiet observer rather than the main event. He had done his part, and now it was ours to take the stage.
