The applause followed them out of the hall like a distant storm.
It never reached them.
The doors closed behind Sebastian and Belle with a muted thud, sealing the echo of thousands of voices into polished marble and chandeliers. The corridor beyond was quiet, lit by soft golden lamps that painted the floor in warm pools of light. For the first time since stepping onto that stage, the air felt private.
Sebastian exhaled.
He hadn't realized he'd been holding his breath.
"Well," he muttered, running a hand through his hair. "That escalated."
Belle laughed softly.
Not the composed, diplomatic laugh she used in public. This one was small and unguarded, the kind that curled at the edges and warmed everything it touched. She bumped her shoulder lightly into his as they walked.
"You handled it well," she said.
"I stood there," he replied.
"You stood there correctly."
"That sounds like a backhanded compliment."
"It's the highest praise I'm capable of giving."
