"If I have to look at one more floral arrangement via a pixelated Zoom call, I might actually scream." Myla sighed, rubbing her temples as she stared at her reflection in the gilded vanity mirror.

Her laptop sat open beside her, showing the final preparations at the hall: a blur of workers hanging decorations and testing the light grids.

Normally, she would be there supervising the final preparations with a clipboard in hand. This foundation was her life’s work, her passion project, and being ...