Beautiful But Unlucky
She took it with both hands, turning it over like it was made of gold.
“The Star Ball?” she whispered. Her voice was so soft, I almost missed the tremble in it.
“Courtesy of Deva,” I said, settling onto the armrest beside her.
She looked at me then, eyes glassy. “I thought I was blacklisted.”
“Apparently not anymore.”
She opened it slowly, reverently, and when she read her name embossed in bold, her hand fluttered to her chest. “Thank you,” she whispered.
I smiled. “It wasn’t me.”
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