(Michelle POV)
After Steven walked away, I stood there for a moment, my glass of sparkling water still in hand, trying to pretend I hadn't just relived a scene from another lifetime.
He was exactly the same — calm, polite, quietly impossible. And yet, younger, softer somehow. His awkward gratitude, the slight hesitation before he spoke… it made me forget for a moment which life I was in.
I sighed, taking a small sip to steady myself. Alright, Michelle, enough nostalgia. You're at a charity gala, not a memory lane exhibit.
The crowd around me had thickened. Laughter and polite chatter filled the air as guests began to gather closer to the open lawn where the auction tables were arranged. Waiters floated between groups, refilling glasses and offering hors d'oeuvres that looked too fancy to touch.
I was about to retreat to a corner when a familiar, cheerful voice rang out behind me.
"Michelle! There you are!"
