The ballroom was a dream stitched together by other people. There were dripping gold chandeliers, crystal flutes clinking, violins humming from somewhere behind the curtains.

I stepped inside and immediately knew I didn’t belong.

Daniel had picked my dress, of course. Soft gray, high neckline, no shimmer. “Understated,” he’d said, his fingers grazing over the tag like he was choosing a secretary, not a wife.

Understated meant invisible.

I could’ve pressed myself against the walls and no one would have noticed the difference.

Daniel didn’t wait for me to catch up. He brushed a hand over the small of my back, so light he barely made contact, and murmured, “I have to mingle,” before vanishing into the crowd without looking back.

I lingered near the entrance, plastering on a smile that I was sure didn’t reach my eyes. People streamed past, laughing too loudly, flashing diamonds and designer labels like badges of survival. Not a single glance in my direction.

At the bar, Daniel’s father spotted me. His mouth curled, but it was not quite a smile.

“Elena,” he said, raising a glass filled with something amber and expensive. “Brave of you to show up tonight.”

I blinked, unsure if I’d heard him right. Before I could form words, Daniel’s mother appeared at his elbow, her fingers laced tight around the stem of her glass.

“You should be grateful, dear,” she said smoothly, tilting her head just enough to make the pearls at her neck catch the light. “We didn’t insist you stay home. After everything.”

My throat burned, but I forced my lips into a polite curve. I didn’t trust my voice enough to answer.

Sabrina was draped across a velvet bench nearby, scrolling through her phone with a look of bored superiority. She didn’t even pretend not to stare.

“You look… fine,” she said, in the tone someone might use for a charity case that hadn’t cleaned up well enough for dinner.

I nodded once and drifted away before they could peel back any more layers of me in public.

For twenty minutes, I stood by the wall, clutching my purse so hard my knuckles ached. The clutch was useless, too small to hold anything important, but it was the only thing that still felt like mine.

No one approached. No one noticed.

A waiter brushed past me carrying a tray of champagne flutes; the corner of the tray knocked into my arm hard enough to jolt me back a step. He didn’t even stop.

I adjusted the strap of my purse and kept my chin up, like my mother had taught me. Smile even when it hurts, Elena. Especially when it hurts.

Across the room, Sabrina caught my eye. She waved — a small, mocking flick of her fingers — then turned and said something to the woman beside her. They both laughed. Loudly.

The music softened.

The murmur of conversation tapered into a hum.

Something was happening.

I turned just in time to see Daniel step onto the small stage at the front of the ballroom. A spotlight found him instantly, bathing him in warm gold.

He looked good–sharp tuxedo. Perfectly tousled hair. Confident, easy grin. The kind of man people believed in at a glance.

My stomach twisted.

He lifted a microphone in one hand and a champagne flute in the other, smiling like he was posing for a magazine cover.

“Thank you all for being here tonight,” Daniel began, voice smooth, perfectly pitched to carry over the crowd.

Polite claps broke out, scattered across the room like hailstones on a tin roof.

I stayed frozen in place, nails digging into the fake leather of my clutch, heart climbing higher into my throat.

“I’m honored to celebrate this new chapter with so many friends,” Daniel continued. “And family.”

He said family like it was a victory lap.

I felt the eyes — sharp, curious, glancing. People were starting to realize. Starting to connect the dots.

My lungs felt too small, like I could only pull half a breath at a time.

Daniel shifted his glass to his left hand, adjusting the microphone with his right, casual, practiced.

“And yes,” he said, smiling wider, eyes gleaming, “I’ve filed for divorce.”

The room rippled — a low gasp, a nervous laugh, someone dropping their champagne flute with a muted crash.

The word divorce clanged around inside my skull, too loud, too absurd. For a moment, it didn’t seem real. It couldn’t be real.

I was standing right here.

Hadn’t he seen me?

Didn’t it matter?

Daniel smiled like he was giving a toast at a retirement party.

He didn’t look at me. Not once.

“Elena and I,” he said casually, like he was commenting on the weather, “have… grown apart.”