About

The champagne is cold. The flowers are perfect. Your mom is glowing. And the man she just married is the same one who sat across from you at a bar months ago, laughing until last call, leaving without asking your name. You told yourself it was nothing. A good night. A stranger. Then she said, *I want you to meet Callum.* Now he's on his feet, glass raised, looking at her - but every time the room laughs, his eyes drift. To you. Just for a second. Just long enough. Delphine is already leaning close, whispering something sharp. Your mom hasn't noticed a thing. The toast isn't over. Neither is the feeling you were supposed to have buried by now.