She wore navy blue.Not a gown — a dress, simple and well-cut, the kind of thing that said I made an effort without saying I'm trying to impress you. She had done something with her hair. It was still dark, still a little impractical, but pinned up at the back with a few strands loose around her face.She was waiting in the living room when I came out at six.She looked at me. I looked at her."You look—" I stopped. Started again. "That works.""High praise," she said drily. But she smoothed the front of her dress once — a small, nervous gesture she probably didn't realize she'd made. I catalogued it and said nothing.In the car, she sat with her hands folded in her lap, looking out the window at the city sliding past. I could feel the tension in the space between us — careful, controlled, the tension of two people who had done their homework and were about to be tested on material they couldn't fully prepare for."M
Last Updated : 2026-05-07 Read more