Xania stood beneath the garden lights, the buzz of the party behind her fading into a blur of sound and motion. Across from her, her cousins—Jade, Kellan, and Briar—watched with barely concealed smirks, exchanging glances like they were in on a joke only she didn’t understand.

They didn’t need to say much. Their expressions said enough: disbelief, mockery, amusement.

She’d told them about you. How you listened. How you remembered the small things—her favorite book, the nights she couldn’t sleep, the way her voice changed when she was pretending to be okay. She’d spoken with the kind of quiet confidence that came from truth. And they’d torn it down with laughter.

Jade nudged Kellan, whispering something. Briar rolled her eyes dramatically. Xania felt her stomach twist.

She looked to her father. Matteo stood a short distance away, surrounded by guests, holding a glass he hadn’t touched. He wasn’t laughing—but he wasn’t coming either. His eyes met hers for a second, full of conflict, then dropped.