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The chandeliers above glittered like frost caught in moonlight, casting an ethereal glow over the vast ballroom. The gentle hum of music and laughter filled the air, but Yalda's heart continued to hammer in her chest as she stood near the edge of the dance floor, her hand curled around a flute of untouched champagne.
She had carried herself with and air of confidence and strength all evening, but none of it seemed to matter now that she finally sighed Alexander.
He stood across the hall with a glass of wine in hand as he uninterestedly conversed with a lady in a black dress. Her breath faltered as their gazes locked.
Or at least, it felt like they had, until she realized he wasn't looking at her at all. His expression was as unreadable as ever, sharp cheekbones and brooding eyes focused ahead at the dancing couple behind her. He stood with the same quiet dominance she had once memorized, only now.
The lady in the black dress clung to his side, radiant in an understated way. She laughed too easily, leaned in too close, her fingers tracing idle circles on his arm like she belonged there.
Yalda felt her world tilt.
Her knees wobbled beneath the weight of her pride crumbling.
Ioannis who stood beside her, continued speaking to converse with an investor, unaware of the silent war unraveling in her chest. Yalda couldn't breathe. Her hand shook as she placed the glass down on the nearest table.
"Excuse me," she whispered, her voice strained. "I need the restroom."
Ioannis turned slightly, brows furrowed. "Do you want me to come with you?"
She shook her head quickly. "No. I...I'm fine. I'll be right back."
He didn’t press, he knew better than to hover now else she would break down, he knew this was hard for her.
Yalda walked briskly, her heels clicking a rhythm of panic as she ducked through the side corridor and out of sight. Once alone, she nearly collapsed against the cold marble wall, her hands trembling.
Alexander had looked so composed. Unbothered. Unmoved.
She had planned to stand tall, to show him that she had risen from the ashes. But it was like he hadn’t even seen the fire.
Inside the empty restroom, she finally let the dam break. Silent sobs wracked her body, mascara smudging beneath her eyes as her hands clutched the edge of the sink.
He hadn’t acknowledged her. He hadn’t even flinched.
And once again, she found herself asking herself, had she been that easy to forget?
~~
On the opposite end of the ballroom, Alexander stood with a glass of wine in hand, his eyes locked on a point somewhere beyond the crowd. He nodded absently at something the lady beside him had said, murmuring a low response before his gaze flickered back toward the space where he had seen her.
Yalda.
She looked exquisite.
She always had, but now she looked stronger, healthier. Her eyes had shone with something defiant, until she had turned away. He saw the moment she broke. And it killed him.
He reached for the bridge of his nose, a habit now. It hadn’t bled today, not yet, but the pressure in his skull was pulsing like a warning. He needed air. He needed distance. But he couldn't tear his eyes away from where she had been.
The lady leaned into his side, fingers trailing along his arm. He didn’t look at her. He didn’t even know her name.
She was a distraction. Nothing more. A way to quiet the ache that had lived in his chest since the day he walked out of Yalda's life.
He had told himself she deserved peace, someone whole. Someone who wouldn't bleed at the edges. He had been dying when she left. And he had kept dying ever since.
But now, seeing her again, radiant and burning with quiet fury, something inside him crumbled.
He turned away from the crowd, fingers tightening around his glass.
"Excuse me," he muttered to his companion, already walking toward the balcony.
Outside, the cool air did little to ease the inferno in his chest. He closed his eyes, inhaling deeply. He hadn't been prepared for the way her presence would unravel him.
For the way her pain would mirror his own. She may have tried to appear strong and flawless, but he knew her, he knew she was putting on a show. She was Yalda after all, he knew her like she was a part of himself.
But he couldn’t reach for her. Not anymore. He had made his choice. He had told himself she was better off without him, and now he had to live with that.
Even if it felt like dying.
Back inside, Yalda returned to the ballroom, her face freshly cleaned, lips painted anew. She walked back to Ioannis, who noticed the tension around her eyes but said nothing. He simply offered his arm again, grounding her.
She took it.
For the rest of the evening, she didn't glance in Alexander's direction. She didn't need to. The damage was done.
But even as she smiled, even as she danced, the question continued to echo in her mind:
How could he look at her like that and feel nothing? How could he have taught her every card in the game, only to beat her at it now with silence?
He had always known how to break her. But this time, he wasn’t even trying. And that was the cruelest cut of all. She should have known better than to try to play a
gainst him.
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