The warmth of the ballroom stung her skin like sunlight after a storm. Belladonna stepped back inside, the muffled chatter and clinking glasses rushing to fill the hollow in her chest. Everything was exactly as she had left it—glamorous, golden, artificial. She could already feel the questions forming on painted lips. Where had she gone? Was she okay? but no one asked. They never did. She moved through the crowd like a ghost wrapped in velvet, smiling when someone looked her way, nodding when they praised her poise. Each interaction was another crack in her already tired facade. Then she saw him.
He was standing near the far column, half-shadowed, entirely still. No drink in hand. No forced laughter on his lips. In a room where everyone tried so hard to be noticed, he was doing the exact opposite—and that's exactly why she couldn't stop looking at him. It was the same man from the balcony. The one who hadn't spoken. The one who hadn't smiled. Black suit, no tie. His shirt slightly open at the collar, like he'd gotten dressed in a rush and didn't care. His gaze drifted over the crowd, not with judgment, but with a kind of detached curiosity. Like he was here by accident. Like he didn't belong. Belladonna's breath hitched. She didn't know what drew her toward him—curiosity, loneliness, or something more dangerous—but her feet moved before her mind caught up.
She approached him slowly, her heels muffled by the thick carpet. Up close, he looked even more guarded. But not unkind."Hi," she said gently. He turned his head toward her, eyes locking onto hers.Grey. Calm. Deep. Eyes that didn't try to impress—just… saw."You're not from here, are you?" she asked. He tilted his head slightly, like he wasn't sure whether to answer or walk away."No," he finally said. His voice was low, grounded. "Is it that obvious?"Belladonna smiled—her real one, soft and unguarded. "You're not pretending like everyone else."He glanced around the room, then looked back at her. "Neither are you."Her smile faltered—not because it hurt, but because he was right. A silence settled between them. Not awkward. Just… honest."I'm Belladonna," she offered after a moment. He paused. "Caleb.""Nice to meet you, Caleb."She expected a handshake or some polite reply. He simply nodded.They stood together in the corner of the ballroom, two people who didn't belong but somehow found belonging in each other's quiet. Belladonna wasn't sure why she stayed—or why he let her.But for the first time in a long time, she didn't feel the need to perform.She just existed.And he didn't look away.