Ruby stood motionless, her nails digging into her palm until she felt the sting of broken skin. The sound of Amelia's heels clicking against the polished floor faded into the distance, but the humiliation lingered like smoke after a fire. Around her, conversations began to resume—soft, hesitant, laced with curiosity—but Ruby could feel the whispers pressing against her from every corner.
Every glance felt like a knife. Every low chuckle felt like mockery.
Her throat tightened. For the first time in a long while, Ruby didn't know how to move, what to say, or how to regain control of the moment. She had always been the one people looked at with envy—the one who dictated the tone of every room she entered. Now, stripped of that power, she felt exposed.
