The living room was decorated with white lights, hanging crystals and artificial snow falling from the ceiling. You were beautiful in the silver dress, your hair pinned with dismissive elegance. His rival, Harriet, posed next to Freddie, as if he were a trophy.

But his eyes... were on you.

During the waltz, he approached behind, lightly touching her arm.

“You’re playing with fire.” you said without turning around.

“So why are you so close to the flames?” He murmured in your ear.

You turned around slowly, staring at him.

“She’ll see.”

“Not now.” He reached out his hand. “Dance with me. A song. Just the two of us. In the midst of everyone.”

And you danced. Not out of anger, not out of defiance, but because dancing with him seemed right - even if everything around screamed otherwise.