The elevator ride down felt interminable, but when the doors finally opened, the grand hotel lobby greeted me with an overwhelming display of opulence. Red roses cascaded from every corner, their fragrance cloying. Chandeliers sparkled as though mocking my misery and staff bustled around, adding finishing touches to the lavish decor.
A young waitress, seemingly new, paused next to me, her eyes wide with awe. "Is there a wedding happening here?" she whispered to another staff member.
The older employee chuckled, her tone carrying pride. "Don’t you know? It’s for our boss, Mr. Harry and his wife. Their seventh wedding anniversary is in five days. This celebration has been in the works for months!"
My stomach twisted at the irony. They were talking about us.
The waitress’s jaw dropped. "Mr. Harry? As in the Harry? The one people say every woman dreams of marrying?"
"Exactly," the other woman said with a grin. "Their love story is legendary. He built a skyscraper named after his wife! It’s like a fairy tale."