The door slammed behind Raef, leaving the house unnervingly quiet. I lowered myself onto the velvet couch, the weight of the evening sinking into my bones. The wine in my hand tasted sharper than usual, almost accusatory. For the first time in years, the perfectly curated world around me felt empty—hollow in a way I could no longer ignore.

Footsteps approached. My maid paused in the doorway, her eyes soft with concern.

I lifted my chin, forcing a practiced smile. “Everything is fine,” I lied, voice steady. “Everything is exactly as it should be.”