The second we entered, it felt like all eyes were on us. Or maybe just on me. I spotted Giovanni almost immediately, standing by the bar with a drink in hand, chatting and laughing with Anya. She looked stunning, of course, like she always did—her long, dark hair flowing down her back, her dress hugging every curve perfectly. And then there was me, standing awkwardly in the middle of a crowd that didn’t seem to notice I was shrinking into myself.
"Samara! You made it!" Anya’s voice rang out over the crowd, and I forced a smile as she walked over, her heels clicking on the polished floor.
"Yeah, couldn’t miss it," I said, my voice a little tighter than I intended.
She hugged me briefly, and as she pulled back, her eyes roamed over my dress, a subtle smirk tugging at the corner of her lips. "You look...cute," she said, in that way people do when they were trying to sound kind but were really judging you.
"Thanks," I mumbled, already wishing I stayed home.
As the night went on, it became harder to ignore the whispers. I could hear them—people comparing me to her. Saying how Anya had everything. How Giovanni was practically devoted to her. How I could never measure up. Every comment felt like a punch to the gut, and I tried my best to avoid looking at her and Giovanni together, but it was impossible.
He never took his eyes off her. They looked perfect together, like they belonged in some magazine spread. Every smile they shared, every touch, felt like a reminder that I wasn’t part of that world. That I didn’t belong.
At one point, Palmer nudged me. "You okay?"
I forced a laugh. "Yeah, totally. Just... overwhelmed."
But I wasn’t okay. I felt like I was shrinking more and more by the second. Like the walls were closing in, and I couldn’t escape. I shouldn’t have come. I didn’t belong here, and I definitely didn’t belong in Giovanni’s life anymore.
The final straw was when someone—one of Anya’s friends, I think—came up to me, her voice dripping with false sweetness. "You’re so brave for coming here. It must be hard, seeing them acting sweet in front of you."
I stared at her, not sure if I wanted to scream or cry. Instead, I just nodded, my voice barely a whisper. "Yeah. It’s hard."