Kane studied her daughter carefully now—not just the clothes, but the way Rhea held herself. There was something unfamiliar there. Not rebellion.
Distance.
"Be careful," Kane said at last, voice edged with warning. "Universities are not safe places."
Rhea nodded once. "I know."
Roin took a step forward. "Rhea—"
She cut him off without raising her voice. "Don't."
The single word froze him in place.
Shyra's voice came from the doorway then. "She ready?"
Shyra stepped inside, already dressed, bag over her shoulder. Her eyes swept the room quickly, clocking the tension instantly.
"We're leaving," Shyra said, not asking.
Kane looked between them. "You're encouraging this?"
Shyra met her gaze evenly. "I'm supporting my sister."
Kane's lips pressed thin. "Make sure she comes back."
Rhea picked up her phone from the table. "I always do."
She walked toward the door. Shyra followed.
Just before stepping out, Rhea paused—not turning around.
"I won't be long," she said. "And I won't do anything reckless."
Kane didn't reply.
Roin watched Rhea's back as she left, something dark and unresolved settling in his chest. The sound of the door closing echoed louder than it should have.
Outside, the night air was cool.
Shyra glanced sideways as they walked toward the car. "You okay?"
Rhea exhaled slowly.
Rhea got into the car and stared straight ahead as Shyra started the engine.
Behind them, the Nior mansion stood still and watchful.
Inside it, Kane remained where she was.
And Roin stood silently, realizing far too late that the distance between him and Rhea had just grown wider—
and that tonight, something he couldn't control had already begun moving.
The car slowed to a stop under warm yellow lights.
Music thumped faintly in the distance, muted by glass and space, but present enough to remind Rhea where she was. The university banquet venue rose ahead—grand, glowing, unreal. Cars lined the driveway. Laughter drifted through the air in broken pieces.
Shyra parked near the curb and turned off the engine.
For a moment, neither of them moved.
Rhea sat still, hands resting on her lap, eyes fixed on the entrance ahead. People walked in groups, dressed too well, laughing too freely. She watched them like she was observing another species.
Shyra studied her from the side.
"You don't have to go in if you don't feel like it," Shyra said quietly.
Rhea shook her head once. "I will."
Shyra nodded, accepting it. She reached out and adjusted the bracelet on Rhea's wrist, grounding her with the familiar touch. "Okay. Then listen carefully."
Rhea turned to look at her.
"I'll come back in one hour," Shyra said. "Exactly one. I'll park nearby."
Rhea's lips parted. "You don't have to wait."
"I do," Shyra replied instantly. "And I will."
She leaned closer, voice lowering. "If you don't feel like staying—if you feel overwhelmed, uncomfortable, angry, sad, numb—"
Rhea swallowed.
"—you call me," Shyra finished. "One call. I'll come instantly."
Rhea nodded slowly. "Okay."
"And Rhea?" Shyra added.
"Yes?"
"You don't owe anyone anything tonight. Not smiles. Not conversations. Not explanations."
Rhea's eyes softened just a little. "Thank you."
Shyra smiled. "You look stunning, by the way."
Rhea sighed. "Don't start."
"I will never stop," Shyra replied, then opened her door. She stepped out, walked around, and opened Rhea's door for her like it was the most natural thing in the world.
Rhea hesitated for half a second.
Then she stepped out.
The night air hit her skin—cool, sharp, alive. She straightened instinctively, adjusted nothing, and closed the door behind her.
Shyra leaned against the car. "One hour."
Rhea nodded again. "One hour."
She took a step away, then paused and looked back. "If I don't call—"
"I'll still come," Shyra interrupted. "Just to check."
Rhea almost smiled.
She turned and walked toward the entrance.
With every step, the sounds grew louder. Music. Voices. Glass clinking. Laughter rising and falling. She passed groups of students who glanced at her—some curious, some admiring, some unsure. She ignored them all.
At the doors, staff greeted her politely. Light spilled out as they opened, warm and blinding for a second.
Rhea stepped inside.
The hall was vast, decorated in gold and red, alive with movement. Masks glittered. Bands circled wrists. A different world entirely.
She stood just inside the entrance for a moment, letting it settle.
Her phone vibrated once in her hand.
A message.
Shyra:I'm right here. Always.
Rhea exhaled slowly.
Then she lifted her chin and walked forward—alone, composed, guarded.
Outside, Shyra watched through the glass.
She checked the time.
And waited.
As Rhea stepped further inside, the warmth of the hall wrapped around her.
A young boy in formal black approached immediately, holding a silver tray. His posture was rehearsed, polite, careful—the kind reserved for guests who mattered.
"Miss," he said softly, lowering the tray. "Your band and mask."
Rhea looked down.
On the tray lay a band—deep red fabric, threaded faintly with gold. Beside it rested a Colombina eye-mask, elegant and sharp. Gold traced its edges, the design clean rather than excessive. It was beautiful in a restrained way.
The same color.
The same tone.
But Rhea didn't know that.
She frowned slightly. "What's this for?"
"No one enters without it," the boy replied smoothly. "It's tonight's theme."
Rhea hesitated. "Theme?"
"Yes, miss. Masks stay on inside."
She gave a short nod. "Fine."
She picked up the band first, fingers brushing over the fabric. It felt heavier than it looked. She wrapped it around her wrist carefully, fastening it once. The red stood out sharply against her skin.
Then she lifted the mask.
For a second, her fingers paused.
It was irrational—she knew that. But something about it made her chest tighten briefly, like déjà vu without memory.
She dismissed it.
"Get a grip," she muttered under her breath.
She raised the Colombina mask and tied it securely. It fit perfectly, framing her eyes, sharpening her expression. The gold caught the chandelier light as she straightened.
"Thank you," she said quietly.
The boy bowed slightly and stepped aside.