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By the time the clock passed one in the morning, the gala was starting to wind down. The once-bustling ballroom was now filled with small groups of guests, clutching damp coats and half-finished drinks, exchanging polite goodbyes that barely hid the chaos unleashed by Xavier's announcement.
I watched the crowd leave with a kind of strange detachment, the weight of curious stares and whispered questions lingering on me like cheap cologne. Eventually, the urge to get away became too strong to ignore. Xavier had vanished at some point, I hadn't caught sight of that sleek charcoal tuxedo for nearly an hour.
