Lydia kept staring at Ivan. Her eyes followed him like she had no control over herself. The ball, the people, the music, the laughter—none of it mattered. All she saw was him, standing across the room, his gaze locked onto hers.
She was lost. Completely lost. Her body felt weak, her chest too tight, as though she had forgotten how to breathe. Her lips trembled faintly. Her hands curled into fists against the skirt of her gown.
And then he moved.
Ivan stepped forward, slowly, deliberately. Each step made her chest tighten more and more until it felt unbearable. She wanted to look away, but she couldn't. She wanted to run, but her feet stayed rooted to the floor. He was crossing the ballroom, and every step closer felt like the ground was trembling beneath her.
When he finally reached her, the world stopped.
The music played on, the couples kept dancing, but for Lydia it all faded into silence.
