Benedict's POV
The alcohol from earlier still warmed my stomach, creating that familiar dulling sensation that typically made everything feel softer around the edges. But the moment I spotted Genevieve across the courtyard, that comfortable haze vanished completely. My mind snapped to brutal clarity.
She was staring directly at me.
And trembling.
Initially, I assumed it might be cold air or simple nervousness, something easily dismissed. But as I watched her more carefully, the shaking became impossible to ignore. Her shoulders twitched with each ragged breath. Her hands clutched at her dress fabric like she was desperately trying to hold herself together.
Her complexion had turned ashen. The ghostly pallor of someone convinced they were facing genuine threat. Her eyes were stretched wide, already glistening with unshed tears.
She looked at me like I was her worst nightmare come to life.
Something she never expected to encounter again.
