Elara Everhart stepped out of Lunara Entertainment, rubbing at her stiff neck. Her first day in the company had been long, filled with introductions, office tours, and polite explanations from staff who seemed eager to impress the daughter of the company's founder. Everything was familiar—the polished marble floors, the quiet hum of staff moving efficiently, the faint scent of coffee—but the familiarity brought no comfort. Today, she realized, the company felt like a stage, and she was back in a play she had never rehearsed for.
She reached her car, intending to leave, when a cheerful voice called her name.
"Elara!"
Vivienne was hurrying toward her, heels clicking against the pavement, hair pinned neatly, phone tucked under one arm. Her smile was bright, almost exaggerated, yet the tension behind her eyes was unmistakable. Vivienne was measuring, observing, trying to detect the subtle change in Elara's demeanor.
"You're leaving already?" Vivienne asked, coming to a stop beside her. "You've barely set foot in the company, and already heading home?"
"I'm tired," Elara said simply. "It's been a long day."
Vivienne's gaze lingered a moment longer. "You look exhausted. Come on, let's eat something first. I booked a table at Le Jardin Étoilé—quiet, elegant, and the food's excellent. You'll need it after your first day."
Elara paused, then nodded. "Alright."
Vivienne's eyebrows lifted in mild surprise at her easy agreement. She linked her arm through Elara's as they walked to the car.
The drive was quiet, punctuated by Vivienne's light chatter about friends, social events, and mutual acquaintances. Elara answered when necessary, her tone calm, neutral. She had no intention of volunteering anything.
When they arrived at Le Jardin Étoilé, the exterior immediately reflected the restaurant's reputation. Glass panels reflected the golden city lights, the doorman opened the door with a nod, and inside, the scent of roses and fine wine mingled with polished wood. Soft background music and subdued lighting lent an air of exclusivity without being ostentatious.
The host led them to their reserved table by the window, overlooking the street below. Vivienne gestured to the seat. "What do you think?"
"It's nice," Elara said simply.
Vivienne ordered water for both of them and leaned slightly forward. "How was your first day?"
"Busy. Everyone was welcoming, though it's a lot to take in on the first day," Elara replied.
Vivienne's fingers played with her napkin. "I can imagine. You'll be back in the office tomorrow, yes?"
Elara nodded. "Yes."
Vivienne's phone buzzed, and she glanced at it quickly. "Oh, some friends are joining us too," she said casually.
Elara raised an eyebrow. "Friends?"
"Yes," Vivienne replied lightly. "Sasha Delacroix and Clara Montrose. They've been asking about you. I thought it'd be nice for everyone to catch up."
Elara leaned back slightly, her posture straight but relaxed. "Alright."
A few minutes later, the restaurant doors opened, and two women walked in together. Sasha Delacroix, tall and confident, scanned the room with an almost practiced attention. Clara Montrose, composed and polite, followed closely behind. Their smiles were bright, warm, but just slightly forced, as if carefully measured for effect.
"Elara! Vivienne!" Sasha called, waving as they approached. "It's been so long!"
Vivienne stood to greet them. "I'm glad you could come."
Clara offered a polite nod to Elara. "We've been wondering when we'd see you again. You've been so busy with… married life, I suppose."
Elara's smile was faint, neutral. "I've been occupied, yes."
The women sat down. Menus were handed out, drinks ordered—champagne for Vivienne, wine for the others, water for Elara—and the small, subtle performance of reunion began.
Sasha leaned slightly toward Vivienne after the menus were delivered. "She looks different, don't you think? Calmer, maybe… But it's hard to tell if it's the marriage or just… life experience."
Clara smirked faintly. "Changed, yes. But you can't ignore the distance. She seems… colder somehow. I hope she hasn't completely forgotten her friends after marrying Damon."
Sasha laughed lightly, but there was a faint edge to it. "It's funny how people evolve. Some of us are still chasing life, and some just… settle into comfort. I suppose we all notice who rises above the rest."
Vivienne's lips curved into a small, controlled smile. "Elara's been busy today—first day at the company. She's learning the ropes. Don't judge her too harshly."
Clara's smile softened, but the sharpness in her eyes remained. "Of course, Viv. We just want to catch up. We care about her."
Elara took a quiet sip of her water, noting everything—the faint tension behind their smiles, the subtle digs masked as concern, the way Sasha's gaze lingered just a second too long, comparing. Clara's polite questions, always phrased as casual curiosity, carried a whisper of judgment. She cataloged it all silently, not reacting, letting Vivienne handle the performance of control and charm.
Sasha tilted her head, glancing at Elara. "I can't imagine how you manage now. Married, starting a new life, and stepping into a company you've never worked in before. Must be… challenging."
Elara's lips curved faintly. "It's manageable."
Clara added, her tone soft but pointed, "We've always wondered how you'd adapt. People change so much after marriage… some for better, some… not so much."
Vivienne interjected smoothly, "She's capable. You've all seen her grow up—she knows how to handle herself."
Ara's eyes scanned the room as the friends laughed softly among themselves. Their chatter, light and casual on the surface, carried undertones of comparison, judgment, and restrained envy. They praised her marriage and accomplishments, yet every sentence contained a tiny, almost imperceptible barb. Their fake care was clear to her now, and she cataloged it all silently, noting their intentions, their weaknesses, their reliance on Vivienne to validate their words.
The conversation drifted naturally—recent trips, small social events, new trends in fashion and dining. The friends took turns sharing, subtly competing for attention, waiting for Ara to respond. She did not. She listened, polite and calm, noting every nuance.
Orders were placed—elaborate dishes, wines, and desserts. Vivienne's smile and careful guidance kept the conversation flowing, ensuring that neither Ara nor the friends dominated the room. Ara noticed how naturally Vivienne navigated the social currents, keeping potential jabs harmless while observing reactions.
Then the entrance opened again. Footsteps echoed softly as a new group arrived, moving with the confidence of familiarity in the space. Vivienne's expression lit up.
"Oh! They're here too," she said.
Elara lifted her eyes. At the center of the group was a tall, composed figure with sharp eyes and a serious expression—someone she hadn't seen in years.
Rhea Hartfield.
Her former best friend.
Elara's hand paused mid-sip, her calm expression unchanged. She observed: Rhea's posture, the glances she exchanged with the new arrivals, the subtle curiosity in her movements. The room's energy shifted slightly, and Ara noted it all without revealing a reaction. Vivienne's friends smiled and waved at the newcomers, their carefully constructed masks of cheer intact.
Ara allowed herself a moment of quiet calculation. She wouldn't react, wouldn't show any hint of recognition or emotion. She would wait, observe, and when the time came, she would act with precision.