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She's wearing a long, glittering red gown that hugs her figure, accentuating her grace and elegance. The dress sparkles under the hall's lights, making her seem as if she's stepped out of a fairy tale.
Her usually curly hair is long and sleek, falling to her waist.
The gown hugs her like a second skin, and she has the most gorgeous hour-glass shape that has every man in the room looking at her with desire.
I want to cry out in anguish at how stunning she is.
Just yesterday, I had her… like putty in my hands.
I can still taste her on my tongue. My bedsheets smell of her perfume.
Now, she’s within arms’ reach, but also a million miles away.
For a moment, time stands still. All eyes are on her, and a hush falls over the room.
Emily looks down the staircase, her eyes searching until they meet mine.
There's a strength in her posture, a confidence that I've never seen before.
She's breathtaking, and in this instant, she's not just Emily, the girl I fell for – she's a woman commanding the attention of everyone present.
As she descends the staircase, the crowd parts for her, their whispers a testament to her stunning transformation.
I can't help but feel a surge of pride, mixed with a sense of awe.
This is Emily, the woman who turned my world upside down, the woman I love.
She reaches the bottom of the stairs, and the guests around us begin to resume their conversations, but the energy has shifted.
Emily has left an indelible mark on the evening.
I make my way through the crowd, each step bringing me closer to her.
As I approach, her eyes lock onto mine, a myriad of emotions flickering within them.
In this sea of people, in the midst of this opulent event, it's as if we're the only two people in the room.
"Emily," I say, my voice barely above a whisper. "You look incredible."
She offers a small, confident smile, one that speaks volumes of the journey she's been on. She’s a far cry from the woman who grabbed my soggy umbrella.
"Thank you, William. I'm glad I caught your eye."
Her tone is civil. Polite.
She’s behaving in the way I planned to be around my father, and her aloofness hurts me deeper than I can bear.
“Listen, I’m so sorry about…” I begin, but she shuts me off with a look. It’s the kind of murderous glare that only appears on her face for a split second before she smiles again, her eyes twinkling.
“Not here,” she mumbles through a smile. “I’m just waiting for the Art Queen.”
Before I can try to persuade her to step outside with me, or go somewhere private, Madeline marches in between us.
She’s taller than Emily, and her yellow lace gown makes her look like a candlestick. “Your father called,” she said, not bothering to hide her annoyance.
Emily watches with apparently interest. Although her gaze moves away from us, I know she’s listening to every word Madeline has to say.
“You’re giving up your shares? Your inheritance? You’re walking away from everything, all for what - for her?” Madeline jabs her thumb in Emily’s direction, and I catch her wrist.
