A Marriage Rewritten
The ballroom pulses with life, every corner bathed in a soft golden glow. Crystal chandeliers twinkle like stars above, casting a dreamlike sheen on the laughter and music swirling through the air. Every whisper, every glance is meant for me. I glide effortlessly through the crowd, my gown shimmering with every step, my smile poised, flawless.
Damien stands beside me, his presence grounding, a reassuring constant. "You look stunning," he says, his voice low, as always. I nod in acknowledgment, a smile playing at the corners of my lips. Everything is as it should be. Perfect.
As the countdown begins, I stand still, my posture impeccable. The rhythmic echo of voices Ten... nine... eight...wraps around me like a lullaby, every heartbeat in sync. I don't have to look; I know the eyes are on me.
Three... two... one...
"Bonne Année!" The cheers erupt like fireworks. Champagne flutes sparkle, laughter ripples through the air. The world shifts into its next chapter another year, another perfect moment. I raise my glass, feeling the delicate bubbles prickle against my tongue, savoring the taste.
But then, a strange feeling stirs in my chest. The glass in my hand suddenly feels too cold, the sweetness of the champagne gone, replaced by a sharp edge.
I smile, but it's more out of habit than joy. The laughter is still loud around me, but in the pit of my stomach, a faint unease lingers. I glance around the room, feeling eyes on me, though I don't know from where. Everyone's expressions are the same polite, perfect.
Damien's hand slips into mine, a gesture that should comfort, but it doesn't. Not this time.
There's something off, something hiding in the smooth surface of this celebration, and I can't place it. The music plays, but it sounds muffled now. The laughter is a little too sharp.
The champagne no longer sweet.
I take another sip. It doesn't change.
Abgeschlossene Geschichte