[Third Person].
Meredith's name landed like a stone.
The next moment, chairs shifted, glasses paused halfway to lips. Some faces betrayed surprise; others slid into thin smiles.
For Meredith, the sound of her full name spoken by Draven in public, with no hesitation or evasions, felt like armour.
Just then, Draven seated himself and, under the table, let his fingers find hers. The gesture was subtle but unmistakable: his hand closed lightly over hers, an everyday claim that turned the air around them taut.
It was protection, yes, but also a quiet declaration to anyone who might test them.
On the other hand, Wanda sat with the practised mask of civility in place. Her lips curved in the correct way for applause, her glass rose with everyone else's—but her eyes did not leave Draven.
