Her hair, long and flowing with shades of brown that shimmered silver under the light, framed a face too captivating to hide behind simplicity. Melody wore a modest white dress, its soft fabric brushing just above her knees, paired with only the faintest touch of makeup. No jewelry, no extravagant styling—yet her beauty radiated effortlessly, the kind of beauty that no disguise could ever dull. She was the kind of woman people couldn't help but look at twice, even when she tried to remain plain.
At that moment, however, her beauty was dimmed by the frown etched on her lips.
The lounge room she sat in was spacious, furnished elegantly for a singer of her stature. Velvet seats, polished mahogany tables, fresh flowers arranged in crystal vases—everything about it screamed refinement. Yet despite the comfort, an air of tension lingered. Melody sat stiffly on the sofa, her fingers rubbing at her forehead as though trying to massage away a building storm inside her.
