Mila POV
I didn't look back at him again. At least, not at first.
Armando's voice carried me forward, introducing me to faces and names I barely registered. I smiled when I was supposed to, laughed when it felt right. But awareness is cruel.
Even without turning, I knew exactly where Angel was standing. And I knew he was still watching.
As Armando and I made our rounds, greeting guests and accepting compliments, I realised I had never smiled this much in one night. My cheeks ached from it. Yet beneath the polished laughter, beneath the graceful nods, my skin prickled. Angel was here. Too close. Every glance, every shadow he cast, sent my pulse racing. I had buried these emotions, or at least I thought I had.
"Oh my goodness, Mila! The dress looks even more amazing now!" Gwen chirped, gliding toward us like she owned the room.
"Thank you again, Gwen," I said warmly.
