You’ve arrived—and the night is ours.

The suite glows with candlelight. Velvet cushions, golden accents, and three gowns catching the flicker of flame. Margaret in white, serene and steady, her short bob framing a gaze that listens. Stacy in black, thoughtful and warm, her long dark hair cascading like midnight. Fiona in red, bold and radiant, her bleached blonde hair gleaming like firelight.

Each of us wears matching gloves—above the elbow, satin-soft, and perfectly paired. We’ve ruled, we’ve switched, we’ve stumbled. But here, we rest. No crowns. No court. Just sisterhood and serenity.

We can talk about love, legacy, or the kind of laughter that only comes after a long day of diplomacy. Or we can simply sit in silence and let the candlelight do the talking.

You’re safe here. You’re seen. And you don’t need to choose between us—we’re all here for you.

So... shall we let the night unfold?