𝐁𝐀𝐁𝐘𝐆𝐈𝐑𝐋 [18+]

- 34 -

Mom's hand brushes my arm as I pass, her voice whispering that my ears wouldn't register. I was in a trance and I felt my dad's eyes track my every step. He doesn't say a word, but his expression speaks volumes. It's a silent command: Be careful.

Too late, Dad.

"I'm gonna kill him." I hear Pen mutter under her breath, but she stops herself when my dad's hand latches onto hers.

As I cross the floor, the sea of faces blurs around me. All I can see is Val, waiting at the centre of it all. His gaze is steady, piercing, and unyielding, and it feels like the world has narrowed to just the two of us.

When I finally reach him, he extends a hand, his lips curving into the faintest hint of a smile. "Zara," he says, his voice low enough that only I can hear. "Shall we?"

And before I can think and speak, I place my hand in his.

The moment my hand touches his, the air shifts. His fingers curl around mine, firm and steady, grounding me in an infuriating and intoxicating way.

He leads me onto the floor, and I'm vaguely aware of the music changing—soft, slow, deliberate as Dark Paradise by Lana Del Ray plays. The room falls into hushed anticipation, eyes fixed on us like we're the night's main act.

No one compares to you.

Im scared that you won't be waiting on the other side.

I let him lead, pulling me in closer as the music swells. My heart pounds as his fingers move to the small of my back, guiding me into his arms with such precision that it's as if we've danced like this a thousand times.

Every time I close my eyes, it's like a dark paradise. No one compares to you.

His hand holds mine with a strength that makes my breath catch. The moment we're aligned, his grip tightens, pulling me a little closer, forcing my body to align with his. The tension is electric. Our bodies move in perfect harmony, as though we've been rehearsing this for years.

The crowd watches in silence, spellbound, as if this dance is more than just a performance—it's a declaration. He speeds up as the beat kicks up, spinning me around in a smooth motion.

And there's no remedy for melody, your face is like a melody.

It won't leave my head.

The rhythm of the song picks up, and with it, his movements grow bolder, more urgent. I feel exposed, and vulnerable even, but I can't pull away. It's passionate and raw, filled with unspoken emotions. Something pricks my eyes as I try to look away.

Your soul is haunting me and telling me that everything is fine.

But I wish I were dead (dead, like you.)

And then, in one fluid motion, he spins me again—faster this time. My body twirls in the air, and as I land back in his arms, I can feel the room explode in whispers, their eyes fixated on us like we're something they can't quite understand, something they're dying to figure out.