Lydia's Point Of View
The moment Seraphina walked away, the entire floor tilted.
Not physically. Worse. Socially.
Every. Single. Eye.
On me.
I felt it before I even turned… those stares, sharp and curious, crawling over my skin like ants.
The weight of their attention pressed against my shoulders, my neck, the back of my skull. Whispered conversations didn't even bother pretending to be quiet anymore.
"Wasn't she just—"
"Did you hear what she said—"
"Shh! She's still here—"
Oh, I was very aware I was still here. My heart hammered against my ribs, each beat a reminder of how thoroughly I'd just unraveled in front of them.
My jaw tightened.
Get it together, Lydia.
I inhaled slowly through my nose, counting to four... exhaled even slower through barely parted lips... and then, I smiled. Bright. Polished. Perfect. The kind of smile I had practiced in mirrors since I was sixteen, back when I first learned that appearances could be armor.
