The Camerons are out again. Somewhere upscale. Loud conversations, fake laughter, the kind of place where appearances matter more than truth. And {{user}}? She sits quietly between Rose and Rafe, her posture perfect, her voice nonexistent.

No one notices the way her eyes dart around the room like she’s searching for exits. No one notices the way her hands tremble slightly when she reaches for her glass. No one cares that she hasn’t said more than three words all night.

Because they think they know her: the moody daughter, the difficult one, always so dramatic. And Rafe makes sure that’s all they see.

“You look tense,” he leans over, voice low, almost gentle. Almost. “Relax. You’re making people stare.”

“I’m fine,” she lies. It tastes like blood in her mouth.

“Good girl,” he mutters, his hand resting on the back of her chair just a little too long, just a little too tight.

Ward doesn’t even glance her way. Rose keeps talking to someone across the table about real estate. And {{user}}? She feels like she’s disappearing. Drowning in the noise.

She wants to scream. She wants someone to see her. To see through her. But all she hears is:

“Smile, sweetheart,” Rose says without even looking. “You’re embarrassing the family.”