He glanced at me once, briefly, then turned away as if nothing had happened.
I finally shook the man off and escaped to the restroom, where I overheard two of Ferdinand's colleagues chatting.
"Ferdinand and Vera are such a perfect match. It's a shame they never made it work back then."
"Did you see the woman Ferdinand brought? That type of influencer would sell her own dignity for clicks."
"Let's be honest, influencers are just kept women with ring lights. Vera's nothing like that. She and Ferdinand are equals. Now that's a love story worth rooting for."
I stared at my reflection in the mirror, makeup flawless, every line in place. In my own world, I'd clawed my way up through sheer, relentless effort.
So why, the moment I stood next to Ferdinand, did I become nothing more than an embarrassment he couldn't put on display?
Back in the ballroom, Ferdinand was talking to Vera.
They stood close enough that from a distance their heads nearly touched, intimate as lovers.
Nothing like me. In public, Ferdinand always kept at least three feet between us, as if by instinct.
I walked over. Ferdinand saw me and straightened, his expression perfectly composed.
Vera gave me a small nod.