Elena chose a small restaurant far from the mansion, far from the polished floors and cold walls that reminded her she did not belong there.
She wanted the smell of real food, the sound of people laughing, the kind of place she used to visit with her aunt before her life became a storm.
Andrei stopped the car in front.
"I'll come in with you," he said like always.
"No," she said softly. "Not today. I don't need attention."
He hesitated but nodded. "I'll be outside."
Elena stepped inside. The restaurant was warm, little noisy, plates clattering, people talking. She found a corner seat and let out a breath she didn't know she was holding.
She had barely touched her menu when two girls walked in—girls from her old life.
Girls who used to laugh at her clothes, her quiet voice, her cheap perfume.
Girls who enjoyed watching her struggle.
They froze when they saw her.
