The ballroom was draped in delicate strands of fairy lights, casting a soft, golden hue that shimmered across the room. Round tables were arranged carefully, each one featuring simple yet elegant centrepieces and softly flickering candles. The air was alive with the hum of conversation and the clink of glasses. At the far end of the room, a band, all dressed in white tuxedos, occupied a small stage. A few guests wandered around the dance floor, engaging in conversation, though it was still too early for the real dancing to begin. I could hardly believe my eyes; I was standing in a scene that felt like something out of a history book or a tale passed down by my grandparents. The scent of roses and freshly polished wood mingled in the air, and the soft hum of jazz from the band added a timeless elegance to the space. My gaze flitted from one glittering gown to the next, each more elaborate than the last. The women moved with a grace that made them seem to glide, their heels clicking softly against the polished floor, while the men in their tuxedos spoke with a kind of assured ease that only comes from knowing you belong. Blake walked alongside his grandmother and me toward the centre table.

As we approached, a tall, curvy girl bounced from her seat, coming around to hug Blake. Prominent dimples graced her face as she grinned.

"There you are! I haven't seen you all day," the girl cooed, her blonde curls bouncing as she embraced him and planted a kiss on his cheek. "And you must be Felicity. It's so lovely to meet you. Wow, you're beautiful," she said as she swung her arms around me in an enthusiastic hug. She was like a whirlwind, her energy infectious, and despite myself, I found myself smiling. "Felicity, this is Gwen," Blake introduced, smiling warmly at his sister and playfully tugging one of her curls. She swatted his hand away with a laugh, leaning over to kiss her grandmother on the cheek.

"I went to pick up Felicity earlier. I'm sure I mentioned to you all that she's staying with us this week."

"You bloody well did not!" Gwen retorted with playful indignation, her voice carrying a theatrical edge.

"Gwendolyn," Meryl warned, her tone stern as she took her seat at the table.

"Hmm, perhaps it was Ben I told when we were working on the cars," Blake mused, running a finger along his bottom lip as if in deep thought. He glanced at me with a mischievous twinkle in his eye, and we shared a silent understanding that he couldn't have possibly told them. It was strangely exciting to have a secret between us, though I knew I shouldn't feel that way.

"Are you not going to introduce Charlotte?" Meryl interjected, her voice cutting through the conversation as a man in a servant's uniform courteously pulled out her chair. Meanwhile, Blake was already assisting me with mine, a gesture that felt foreign to me—I'd never been to an event so formal before, where people were there to pull out your chair for you. Before Blake could respond, Gwen took the initiative.

"Oh, how terribly rude of us," she said with a theatrical tut. "This is my dearest friend, Charlotte." Charlotte's jet-black hair was styled into a sharp bob, framing her features with precision. Her pointed chin and high cheekbones added an air of sharpness, contrasting with her wide mouth and full lips, which were painted a garish red that didn't quite match her pale complexion.

"Nice to meet you," she said, her smile cool and distant. Her eyes slowly scanned me from head to toe, a scrutiny that made me feel uncomfortable as I settled into my seat.

"And Blake's fiancée," Meryl added, her words directed at me as though to make a point.

"Not quite," Blake responded, though his tone was neither dismissive nor entirely eager. It was clear he hadn't asked her yet. I don't know why that made my stomach turn.

Gwen and Charlotte were like night and day. Gwen couldn't contain her excitement, her eyes sparkling with anticipation as she chatted animatedly about the event, occasionally tossing a playful jab at Blake.

"Blake's speech is going to be amazing, It always is" Gwen beamed. "Honestly, Felicity, he's a natural at this kind of thing. Dad always said he could charm the socks off a room full of nuns."

"Gwendolyn" Meryl tutted, but all Gwen did was shrug cheekily.

Every so often, someone would catch his eye, and he'd wave them over for a brief, whispered conversation. Each time he returned to his seat, his shoulders seemed a little more tense. On the other hand, Charlotte remained distant. She hardly spoke, even to Blake, who made the effort to kiss her on the cheek before sitting. She seemed more preoccupied with smoothing imaginary wrinkles from her dress than engaging in conversation.

The band played soft music, setting the mood as the ballroom continued to fill with guests. Some were still finding their seats, while others made their way to the bar for drinks. Blake stood, then asked,

"Would you like a drink?" He was asking me, but I hadn't noticed at first, as I was too busy people-watching. It was fascinating. It wasn't until Gwen tapped me on the shoulder that I realised he had spoken to me.

"Oh, sure," I smiled up at him, wide-eyed. He was about to ask what I would like, so I quickly added, "Just surprise me."

"I'll come with you," Charlotte said, getting up in a flat, monotone voice. The absence of chemistry between Blake and Charlotte was glaring. Their movements felt mechanical, more like a routine than a partnership. As they walked away, I noticed how Blake glanced back at the table—not at Charlotte, but at me. Blake cast a quick glance at his watch, downed the remaining contents of his glass, and rose from his seat, adjusting his suit jacket. Charlotte struck up a conversation with Meryl, leaving me with Gwen. She delved into a detailed discussion about the new silks she was having imported from France, and I found myself getting lost in the conversation. Unaware of Blake's movements, I was engrossed in our talk until the room suddenly fell silent. I gently nudged Gwen to stop talking, sensing something important was about to happen. As I looked up, I saw Blake standing at the stage, champagne in one hand and a knife in the other. He had captured everyone's attention. He handed the glass and knife over to Kingsley, who stood against the back wall, before beginning to speak.

"Good evening, ladies and gentlemen, and thank you for joining us tonight," Blake's voice rang out, commanding the room's attention. Although his smile was warm, I couldn't help but notice a hint of tension in his eyes. The guests around me sat upright, their faces glowing with admiration, hanging on his every word. I wanted to feel the same admiration, to be part of the moment, but the longer I sat there, the more out of place I felt. The clinking of glasses, the elegant gowns, the atmosphere thick with shared history—it all seemed like a language I didn't understand. I felt like I was intruding, and it was making my skin itch. Blake continued his speech, his voice calm and measured, but I found it harder and harder to focus on his words. I glanced around the room. People were nodding, smiling, their faces alight with pride. It was as though the entire ballroom moved to a rhythm I couldn't hear, a choreography I hadn't been taught. I was a stranger, out of sync with the effortless grace around me.

"In the intricate tapestry of life, every gentleman requires not only a dependable companion but also a true partner who enriches the very fabric of existence,"

Blake's voice drew my attention back to the stage. His words were perfectly chosen, deliberate, but they felt distant, like they belonged to a polished performance rather than a heartfelt moment. I looked at Charlotte. She wore a hollow smile, her gaze sweeping over the crowd rather than lingering on Blake. Her posture was perfect, her expression poised, but there was no warmth, no sign of shared excitement. Yet, the crowd clapped and cheered, filling the room with energy that only made the hollow feeling in my chest grow. I clapped along, mimicking the joy around me, but it felt performative. The sound of my hands meeting felt small, swallowed by the louder, more genuine applause surrounding me. It reminded me of being at a party where everyone seemed to share some unspoken bond, and no matter how hard I tried to engage, I couldn't shake the sense of being on the outside looking in. Blake continued, taking a deep breath before saying, "Tonight, before all of you, I would like to request the honour of Charlotte becoming my wife. "

The room erupted in applause and cheers, people rising to their feet, their enthusiasm washing over the space in waves. I stayed seated, clapping weakly, unsure if I should stand. My stomach twisted as Blake bent down on one knee, producing a small red box from his pocket. Charlotte's face lit up as she smiled at the crowd before saying,

"Yes, of course." The cheers swelled louder, and Gwen squealed next to me, clapping her hands in delight. Her energy should have been infectious, but I felt as though I were shrinking. The noise was too much, the movement of the crowd too overwhelming. I smiled weakly, nodding along to Gwen's enthusiastic remarks, but I couldn't stop the tightness creeping into my chest. It was surreal—this moment of triumph, this fairy tale proposal unfolding before me—and yet all I felt was a growing sense of detachment. Like I was watching it all from behind a pane of glass, unable to truly participate.

Amid the joyous chaos, I murmured to Gwen, "I think I need some air. Something I ate earlier isn't agreeing with me." My voice was quiet, swallowed by the celebrations, but she nodded sympathetically, too caught up in the excitement to notice the unease in my tone. As I slipped through the crowd, unnoticed, a weight lifted slightly.