- Sean -
The ambiance of the gallery buzzed with a mixture of high-pitched laughter and the clinking of glasses, creating an almost intoxicating atmosphere that made my heart race. I clutched the invitation in my hand semi-tightly, letting my fingers trace over the elegant, particular script—'Aria Foster, Spectacle of Dance: A Midnight Phoenix.' The thought of her taking the stage tomorrow sent a thrill through me, but also a pinch of anxiety.
Dressed in a tailored black suit, my reflection caught my eye in a gilded mirror as I passed. It felt good but also burdensome—this was meant to be a night of celebration. Yet, here I was lugging a bruise underneath my carefully applied makeup, a remnant of a less-than-glamorous souvenir sent by Zayn's fist. I was trying to keep it light, but the
