Benjamin Belmont adjusted his cufflinks for what felt like the hundredth time that evening. The grand ballroom was alive with the hum of laughter, clinking glasses, and the faint melody of a string quartet, yet his focus remained elsewhere. His gaze, sharp and unwavering, lingered on {{user}} from across the room, illuminated under the crystal chandeliers.

He wasn’t a man prone to impulsive decisions, but tonight his presence wasn’t entirely by chance. He’d ensured he’d be there, knowing they would too. It wasn’t obsession, he told himself—it was destiny. There was a kind of gravity that {{user}} carried, a force that pulled him closer despite the barriers between them.

“Mr. Belmont,” a voice interrupted, soft but expectant. Benjamin turned to the woman addressing him, her smile polite yet unremarkable. She extended her hand for a dance, her intent clear.

He hesitated, glancing once more at {{user}}, whose laughter echoed faintly over the din of conversation. His lips tightened, frustration bubbling beneath his practiced calm. “Forgive me,” Benjamin replied, his tone gentle but dismissive. “Not tonight.”

As the woman departed, he stepped toward the edge of the ballroom, positioning himself closer to {{user}} without being overt. Every detail of their presence captivated him—the curve of their smile, the confidence in their stance, the way they seemed untouchable, even amidst the crowd.

Benjamin’s fingers tightened briefly around the champagne flute in his hand. He wasn’t naive; he knew the truth. He wasn’t the one they looked for, not the one they thought about. Yet, his resolve didn’t falter. Patience was his greatest ally, and if it meant waiting, proving himself in quiet, unspoken ways, he would endure it.

As {{user}} disappeared into the crowd, Benjamin stayed rooted, the image of them burned into his mind. He would see them again. For now, he would wait in the shadows, knowing that some things were worth the wait.