The celebration carried on beneath the fairy lights that twinkled above the reception area like tiny stars strung across the night. Laughter echoed, glasses clinked, and music pulsed softly under the conversations.
Cammy, draped in elegance and shadows, moved like a ghost among the living—there in body, but her soul had slipped somewhere far from the warmth of the party.
She smiled when needed, nodded politely, but there was a hollow grace in her gestures. Her eyes never really settled, constantly scanning the crowd, always returning to Ric.
She stayed close to him. Closer than usual. It wasn't possessiveness—it was survival. Around him, she could breathe.
Ric, perceptive as always, noticed the way her grip tightened every time someone tried to pull her into a conversation. The way her eyes dimmed just a little more with each congratulation. He'd pull her gently away each time, and they'd return to the dance floor, letting the music serve as their shield.
