The reception was held in a sleek, modern ballroom, a deliberate contrast to the wedding's stifling tradition. While still grand—swathes of purple and silver fabric hung from the ceiling, illuminated by dazzling spotlights—the atmosphere was looser. People were less formally posed and more animated, fueled by cocktails and the loud, pulsing beat of a live DJ. The young crowd was out in force, competing not just on wealth, but on effortless coolness and cutting-edge fashion. It was a place for showing off and securing alliances, disguised as a dance party.
Lav arrived meticulously dressed in a crisp black kurta he rarely wore, his hair neatly styled.A flick of hair dangling down his forehead styled with thick mouse made him look sexy.The effort was noticeable; this wasn't the man who preferred to sit alone with Ghost. He felt naked without his pet, stripped of his emotional shield. His heart felt lodged in his throat as he scanned the entrance, rehearsing a dozen different scenarios. He knew what he was looking for: a quiet anomaly, the one who saw cages. His palms were slick with anxiety, the fear of disappointment battling the fierce, small spark of hope Roo had lit.
Across the room, Shyan was already fully engaged in his own performance. He leaned casually against a pillar, his charisma weaponized, laughing a little too loudly at a pretty girl who wasn't Roo. He didn't seem to notice or care that his girlfriend hadn't yet arrived. His hand rested on the other girl's arm, his eyes bright with the thrill of easy conquest and validation. It was an open display of possessiveness—not of Roo, but of his own perceived power.
Roo finally walked in. She was dressed beautifully in an emerald green anarkali,that highlighted her beautiful collar bone. Half hair draped in soft bun and half dangling free around her ears and neck. A minimalist diamond necklace was shining around her neck highlighting her long slender neck. She looks a heavenly beauty but to her the clothes felt like a uniform she was compelled to wear. She signed her presence at the reception, took a swift, disinterested look at Shyan engrossed in his performance. She found him in a corner with a women. He held a wine glass in one hand and his other hand wrapped around that women. Looking at this Roo felt gross and immediately began to search for an escape route.
She stopped a passing waiter, politely asking about a quiet place outside the main hall. He directed her to the terrace lawn, giving her clear directions. She grabbed a non-alcoholic drink from the bar, her gaze vacant, and moved toward the designated sanctuary.
Roo reached the terrace lawn and felt an immediate sense of release. This was no mere patio; it was a sanctuary—a large, multi-level outdoor space walled off from the city by sleek glass and potted greenery. The air here was several degrees cooler than the ballroom, slightly humid from the mist rising off the long, blue-lit infinity pool that dominated the center. Subtle spotlights illuminated the heavy, expensive decoration—geometric planters holding exotic succulents and large, sculptured bonsai trees. She found a calm corner by one of these trees near the smooth, black handrails.
She looked out at the city below—a glittering, endless sprawl of lights that felt utterly detached from her reality. The weather was balmy, with a slight, comforting breeze carrying the faint, muffled thrum of the music from inside. This was where she could finally breathe, but the beauty of the city view only underscored her profound isolation. She didn't belong to this place. She took a slow sip of her drink, the quiet bitterness of her situation a sharp contrast to the elegant setting.