The three of them walked toward the glowing entrance, the crowd waiting inside like a wave ready to meet him.
The moment they stepped inside, the lights seemed to sharpen, catching on the crystal centerpieces and the sleek rows of cameras waiting near the entry.
The hum of conversation swelled, elegant and effortless, like everyone already knew how the night was supposed to go.
"Sir, over here—just a moment!" one of the photographers called, already raising his camera.
Luca flinched slightly, his steps faltering. The sudden attention made his throat tighten. "No, I—" he started, voice low and unsure.
But before he could turn away, his father's hand landed on his back.
A gentle but firm pressure.
"Just one," his father murmured. Not asking. Decided.
Luca's jaw clenched, his lips pressed into a thin line.
Jeff leaned in from behind him, voice soft. "It's alright. Breathe, kid. Two seconds, then it's over."
Luca didn't respond, but he stayed still.
