A waiter arrives with a velvet box wrapped in ivory silk ribbon, placing it gently into Ami's hands. She turns, walking toward the glittering spotlight where gifts are being opened, her heels clicking softly against the marble floor.
Alia stands in the center, soaking up compliments like sunlight.
Ami stops in front of her, holding out the box.
Ami (with a graceful smile):
"Happy birthday, Alia. I picked this just for you."
The entire room hushes, attention shifting toward them. Even Maxim and Aron look curious.
Alia's perfectly shaped brow arches as she accepts the gift, already suspicious.
She pulls at the ribbon, lifts the lid -and gasps.
Inside rests a silver hand mirror, elegant and ornate, its handle shaped like delicate ivy vines. The glass catches the chandelier light, sending tiny rainbows dancing across the floor. Everyone leans in, impressed.
Guest #1:
"Whoa… that's stunning."
Guest #2:
"Must be expensive… look at the craftsmanship..."
Alia holds it up, admiring the details with narrowed eyes.
Ami leans in slightly, voice a gentle whisper only she can hear-yet cold enough to freeze fire.
Ami:
"Take a look whenever you're angry. You might see how a snake looks."
Alia's fingers tighten on the mirror. For a split second, her smile falters. But the crowd is still murmuring in awe.
Guest #3:
"That's what you call class. Damn, Ami really brought elegance."
Sneha, standing nearby with a drink in hand, lets out the softest snort and sips like nothing happened.
Dylan mutters under his breath:
"She didn't give her a gift… she gave her a burn wrapped in silver."
Soha:
"Alia doesn't even know whether to say thank you or hiss."
Aron, watching from the side, lets out a quiet breath, hiding a smirk.
Alia's face twitches.
The fake smile drops like glass slipping from a hand.
Her eyes flash---sharp, burning, feral.
Then, she lifts her voice, loud enough for everyone to hear, her tone dripping with mockery.
Alia (loud, scoffing):
"A mirror? Really, Ami? That's… cute. Something cheap and simple. Just like you."
Gasps burst through the crowd like firecrackers.
A few girls exchange shocked looks. One of them whispers, "Did she just---?" A couple of boys chuckle, sensing incoming drama.
Someone from the side blurts in disbelief:
"Wait---cheap?! That's a limited edition artisan mirror. Worth more than half this villa's wine budget."
Heads turn sharply. More murmurs follow.
But Ami doesn't even blink.
Her smile stays...
She meets Alia's eyes, voice soft but perfectly loud enough to reach every corner of the ballroom.
Ami (sweet and savage):
"Oh, I knew you'd like it. It's the only thing honest enough to show you your true self... without filters or flattery."
The air cracks.
"OHHHHHH!"
Sneha nearly spits out her mocktail, coughing from laughter.
Saad leans in, eyes wide, and whispers to Dylan:
"She didn't clap back. She declared war---with a ribbon."
Dylan:
"She just stabbed her with silk. And smiled while doing it."
Even Aron lets out a quiet breath, his head tilting with amusement.
Gasps ripple again as Alia looks around---faces staring, whispering.
Alia opens her mouth,about to fire back-but before she can unleash whatever venom she's brewing, Maxim clears his throat with a thunderous finality.
Maxim (sharp and cold):
"That's enough, Alia. Control yourself."
The silence stretches.
Alia's jaw clenches. Her pride is bleeding, but she swallows the scream in her throat.
She lets out a dry, brittle laugh and turns to the crowd, voice straining through her teeth.
Alia (tight, fake-smiling):
"Okay, okay… enough of these dramatic little gifts. Let's move on to cake, shall we?"
She walks away, heels clicking, pride dragging behind her like torn silk.
People follow-but the energy is different now.
At the cake-cutting, Alia forces smiles, but everyone's distracted. Some whisper about Ami. Others scroll through photos of Dylan and Soha dancing.
Ami doesn't go near the cake table.
Instead, she lingers by the balcony with her friends, sipping from a champagne glass (non-alcoholic), her silver earrings catching the soft outdoor lights.
Her friends surround her, laughing quietly, lounging on the outdoor chairs . But beneath that perfect surface, subtle tensions still simmer.
Soha sits beside Dylan, their shoulders brushing. She tries not to look at him too long, but his hand finds hers beneath the table. She lets it linger, blushing, her fingers curling slightly in response.
Sneha, on the other hand, stays oddly quiet. She leans back on the railing, drink in hand, but her eyes are restless.
Saad walks over, slipping in beside her, arms crossed.
Saad (under his breath):
"Okay, I've had enough of this awkwardness. You're clearly mad. Let's just fix this like normal people."
Sneha sips from her glass slowly, not even looking at him.
Sneha (flatly):
"Give it a rest. Later, later. I'm enjoying tonight's drama, thank you very much."
Saad:
"Seriously? I said I was sorry. That incident---whatever that rooftop nonsense was---it was a mistake, alright? I didn't mean for it to go that far."
Her gaze finally snaps to him, sharp but unreadable.
Sneha (coolly):
"We'll see. Just… don't pretend it didn't matter, Saad."
He looks like he wants to say something else---but stops. A slow sigh escapes him as he shifts away, leaning against the railing beside her in silence. The tension between them hums quietly under the party lights.
And then---
A sudden chime echoes from the speakers.
The emcee steps onto the stage, voice cheerful and clear:
Emcee:
"Before we wrap up this unforgettable night, we have a little surprise! A tradition of LM Villa's finest events-tonight's Belle of the Ball!"
Gasps and murmurs spread through the room.
Emcee (grinning):
"The guest who truly captured hearts, turned heads, and lit up the night… please give it up for---
Ami Elowen Vale!"
For a moment, the ballroom freezes.
Then, thunderous applause erupts.
Guests turn, some standing, all eyes snapping to Ami.
Gasps.
Soft cheers.
A few of the Everon boys whistle.
Alia's face drops like shattered glass. Her fork slips from her fingers and clatters on the table. Even Nyra doesn't know how to react---her eyes dart from Ami to Alia, speechless.
Ami blinks---clearly surprised---but she rises with the kind of grace that needs no rehearsal. Her black dress glimmers like falling stardust as she makes her way to the stage.
She takes the mic with a soft smile.
Ami (gentle, sincere):
"Thank you. I wasn't expecting this at all… I just came here as a guest. But thank you, truly, for the love."
Simple. Humble. No boasting. Just quiet confidence.
And that-
That makes it sting worse.
The crowd claps louder.
Sneha lets out a proud whoop.
Alia shoots up from her seat, face flushed crimson, lips trembling.
Alia (shouting):
"SHUT UP! I'm supposed to be the Belle of the Ball! This is MY party!"
The music stutters.
The applause dies.
A stunned silence falls.
And then, from the back---
Voice in the crowd (mocking):
"Says who? Your daddy?"
"Still clinging to that 'daddy's princess' fairytale?"
"Booooo!"
One by one, the crowd turns. Some laugh.
Some boo.
It's chaos---but not the kind Alia wanted.
Nyra tries to hold her back, but Alia shakes her off.
Alia (screaming):
"You all ruined my day! This is MY NIGHT! I'll make every single one of you pay---ONE BY ONE!"
She storms out of the villa, heels clacking like thunder, fury trailing behind her like smoke.
Flash.
Someone takes a photo.
The caption's already writing itself.
Alia's POV:
"She didn't even try. She didn't dress to impress. She didn't suck up to anyone. But still… she wins."
"Why? Why does she always win?! Even when I have everything… I still lose to her."
Back inside -
People are talking, smiling, dancing again---but now, it's in Ami's orbit. She glows in the center of it all, effortlessly radiant.
And just like that---
The night that was supposed to crown Alia… becomes the night everyone remembers Ami.