Chapter 4 — The First Encounter with Benji

Mia

The ballroom is a swirl of pastel gowns, sharp tuxedos, and the glint of fairy lights strung across the ceiling. It’s beautiful, no doubt, but the perfection of it feels like a weight pressing against my chest. Everyone else seems effortlessly at ease, laughing and dancing like this is the culmination of some perfect high school fairy tale. Meanwhile, I’m gripping the edges of my silver clutch so tightly that the delicate charms on my bracelet jingle softly against the noise, a private reminder of how out of place I feel.