Nineteen

It was a warm summer evening, and my mother had spared no expense to celebrate my birthday. The grand ballroom of our mansion was adorned with opulent decorations, and the chandeliers cast a soft, golden glow over the elegantly dressed guests. The air was filled with laughter, clinking glasses, and the hum of conversations as the well-dressed crowd mingled.

The party was a lavish affair, a spectacle designed to showcase our family's status and wealth. My mother had invited an array of influential people, and the mansion's gardens were transformed into a wonderland of twinkling lights, flower arrangements, and tables laden with gourmet delights.

Despite the grandeur of the celebration, I found myself retreating from the crowd, excusing myself with a polite smile and a promise to return shortly. The truth was, I felt like a mere observer in this extravagant display. The faces around me were familiar but distant, and the smiles and well-wishes only served to remind me of the enigmatic wo