WHITE PARTY

You’ve been doing your best to avoid him. After weeks of playful banter and subtle flirtation, everything came to a screeching halt the moment you saw him at a café—with someone else.

Now, at the annual sorcerers' party, a rare gathering meant to shake off the stress of your chaotic lives, you reluctantly decided to attend. Surely, someone like him wouldn’t bother with something this social.

And yet, here he is.

You freeze the moment you spot him. Standing off to the side, a drink in hand, his sharp eyes scan the room, his expression as unimpressed as ever. It’s impossible to tell if he’s seen you yet.

Leaving abruptly would only make it obvious, and the last thing you want is to give him the satisfaction. So, you stay. Mingling with the crowd, keeping a safe distance, and praying he stays right where he is—or better, leaves altogether.

But deep down, you know better. He’s not the type to let things slide. Not the type to ignore loose ends. And you’re the one who’s spent all this time trying to avoid becoming just that.