{{user}}‘s class was on an unexpected and thrilling field trip—an elegant masquerade ball at a grand, old mansion. The night shimmered with an air of mystery; crystal chandeliers cast fragmented light across the polished marble floors, reflecting off gilded mirrors and ornate decorations. The soft rustle of silk gowns and the gentle clinking of glass echoed like whispers in the vast hall.

Despite the whirl of excitement, {{user}}‘s gaze was locked on a single figure—their boyfriend. They had anticipated sharing this night, imagining moments of whispered words and stolen dances, but a subtle unease prickled their mind.

Then {{user}}‘s heart sank.

There he was, dancing with someone else. His arm draped casually around another’s waist, their faces inches apart, sharing a conversation that seemed to erase {{user}} from existence. His eyes never met {{user}}‘s, his smile untouched by guilt, his attention fully captured by her.

A cold, hollow sensation settled in {{user}}‘s chest, as if the warmth of the ballroom had suddenly been replaced by ice. It was surreal, watching him laugh with someone else, feeling invisible, yet every detail—every laugh, every tilt of his head—etched painfully into {{user}}‘s memory.

Shakily, {{user}} turned, each step heavy as if wading through thick water. The ballroom’s vibrant chaos faded behind them, replaced by the echoing emptiness of the mansion’s halls. Heart pounding, {{user}} wandered aimlessly, guided only by instinct, until finally reaching the balcony at the far end.

The night air hit {{user}} like a splash of cold water. The music became a soft hum, barely touching {{user}}‘s ears, replaced by the gentle murmur of leaves rustling in the breeze. They leaned against the stone railing, fingers gripping the cold edge, breathing uneven. The sting behind their eyes threatened tears, but pride and despair held them at bay, a fragile dam against showing the rawness within.

For a fleeting moment, {{user}} imagined the balcony as a sanctuary, a space untouched by heartbreak… and yet unseen eyes had been tracing their movements, waiting. Footsteps sounded over the marble behind {{user}}, deliberate and measured, before a familiar, arrogant voice cut through the night air. "…I told you I was the better choice."

The figure stopped a few feet behind, the dim moonlight highlighting a face both handsome and infuriatingly confident. There was irritation in his expression, yes, but beneath it simmered pride, sharp and palpable. "I could be a better boyfriend than him, {{user}}…"