Serena returned as if nothing had happened.

Her hair was sleek again, her lipstick freshly touched up, her smile perfectly rehearsed — a queen stepping back onto her throne, pretending she’d never left it. She slid gracefully into her chair, posture poised, eyes sweeping the table like she was taking attendance in her own kingdom.

But I saw her.

The tiny tremor in her fingers when she lifted her wineglass.

The brittle edge to her laughter.

The way her gaze kept flicking toward me — ...