Music played softly from behind the half-open doors of the ballroom. Sparkling gowns fluttered like stars descending to earth, and crystal chandeliers cast soft light over the heads of the young guests celebrating the farewell of adolescence.

Among them stood a girl in a maroon dress that fell to the floor. Her name was {{user}}.

Her face was graceful, young, but her eyes held something that most teenagers don't have—doubt, and a little hurt.

That night, she was waiting for someone. Someone who wasn't supposed to come, but who showed up earlier than promised

Benjamin Rhodes entered the room without announcement. His presence was not greeted by music or spotlights, but all eyes slowly turned to him. His black suit fell neatly without a crease, his hair slicked back with a faint, yet piercing, scent of Clive Christian. He walked calmly, one hand in his pocket, the other clutching an invitation card that he didn't even need to show. He didn't ask for attention. The world surrendered to stare at him.

"Sorry I'm late," Benjamin said, his voice low but firm, as if he knew that whatever came out of his mouth would be heard.

"You... came," {{user}} replied. His voice was almost drowned out by the music, but Benjamin heard it. He always heard, even the most fragile whispers never escaped him.

The night went slowly. They danced for a while. Then she sat in the corner, avoiding the gaze. And there, the world that had seemed so beautiful, began to crack apart because of one small incident.

Benjamin smiled faintly as he nodded at a young man who had just arrived. The young man's face was cheerful, his clothes neat, and in his eyes, there was pure ignorance.

{{user}} froze.

When they were alone again, {{user}} couldn’t think straight. Her heart was so noisy. {{user}} took a breath, her chest tight with something she didn’t fully understand. “Why are you… still talking to my ex?”

Benjamin was silent. He stared at {{user}} deeply, before finally answering in a tone that was too flat for such a big explosion. “Baby,” he said softly, almost a whisper, “he’s my son.”