"Maybe I should have a dance with my beautiful wife."
Daniel set his wine glass aside and stood, extending his hand toward Anna as though the invitation was the most natural thing in the world.
For a second, hesitation flickered across her face.
She glanced around instinctively—at the swirling gowns, confident laughter, couples already lost in the rhythm of the music. The ballroom lights shimmered against polished floors, catching every movement. Eyes were everywhere. Cameras might not be flashing anymore, but people were still watching.
"I can't dance," she whispered quickly, leaning closer so only he could hear. There was a faint edge to her voice, something vulnerable she rarely allowed out.
Dancing had always been one of those quiet insecurities she carried from childhood. Growing up under scrutiny, she had learned to sit straight, speak properly, smile at the right moments. But dance? Dance required letting go. And she had never been taught how to do that.
