Monet let out a mocking laugh. "That's rich. Zoya, please spare us the humble act. You may be a model now, but you are certainly no actress."
"Well, at least I can hold my liquor," Zoya teased, hinting at Monet's notorious attitude after a few drink...
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One Year Earlier
Monet scrutinized her reflection in the full-length mirror, the soft glow of vanity bulbs accentuating the cascade of perfectly styled hair framing her made-up face. It stood as a testament to the meticulous effort she had invested in her appearance for Julien's engagement party.
Adjusting the diamond-studded bracelet on her wrist, she gazed at her reflection, mastering the art of nonchalance. The scent of her signature perfume lingered in the air, a fragrant trail of confidence that accompanied her every move. A flicker of satisfaction played across her eyes as she remembered she wasn't just attending tonight; she was orchestrating a show.
Anticipating Zoya's presence, Monet's eyes swept over every detail of her ensemble, each element carefully chosen to convey strength and undeniable sophistication. The couture black dress clung to her figure with purpose, a deliberate statement aimed at projecting an image of someone who had gracefully moved on, leaving Zoya to grapple with the aftermath of her losses.
Weeks had passed since their breakup, and their only communication had revolved around the upcoming party. Zoya, breaking the silence, wasn't extending an olive branch to apologize or confess regret. Instead, her call had a singular purpose: to ensure that their relationship issues wouldn't cast a shadow over the celebration of her dear sister and Obie. It seemed Zoya's concern was solely directed towards Julien's feelings, with little consideration for Monet's own.
Nevertheless, they struck an agreement - to play the role of a content couple for the night. Monet's compliance wasn't driven by any concern for Julien's happiness; rather, it was a calculated effort to postpone the truth from coming out, to keep the unraveling threads of their breakup hidden, at least for one more night.
Once the event commenced, they arrived separately. Monet felt a surge of irritation, now unexpectedly burdened with the role of being Zoya's messenger. An onslaught of questions immediately came her way as everyone inquired about Zoya's absence. She was forced to explain how her photoshoot was running behind schedule, as per usual. However, she assured everyone that she would be here as soon as possible.
Entering Dumbo Hall, the distinct click of Monet's stilettos echoed in sync with the pulse of anticipation. The venue buzzed with excitement and nostalgia, adorned with floral arrangements and shimmering chandeliers.
Monet took a deep breath, immersing herself in the atmosphere. With an air of confidence and charm, she moved through the crowd, heading straight towards the bar.
Impatiently awaiting her drink, she tapped her manicured nails against the surface when a familiar voice cut through the ambient noise.
"Monet, you look incredible," cooed Luna, her equally glamorous confidante, appearing by her side with the scent of expensive perfume lingering in her wake.
She smirked, acknowledging the compliment with a subtle nod. "Naturally," she sighed. Luna's presence always provided her with a sense of comfort, which she desperately needed right now.
