Violet Bento fell into a sudden silence, her painted lips pressed into a thoughtful line, eyes flickering with the shimmer of expectation—and disappointment. Her presence, though poised and graceful, trembled faintly under the surface like a wine glass on the verge of cracking. She had waited for this moment. But reality, with its sharp edges, rarely softened for hope.

Meanwhile, Linsy was still at the art exhibition, her figure framed by a soft wash of amber lighting ...