Eve dragged Chiqui through the grand hallway, her grip tight and unrelenting. The suffocating air of the ballroom, the murmurs of the guests, the echoes of the past—she needed to escape it all.
Her chest felt tight, her breath shallow as she pushed through the heavy doors leading to the hotel's sprawling garden.
The night air was crisp, carrying the faint scent of roses and damp earth. A soft glow from the garden lamps illuminated the cobblestone path as Eve led Chiqui to a secluded bench beneath a canopy of ivy.
The moment she sat down, her body trembled violently, and the dam she had been holding back finally broke.
Tears spilled down her cheeks in uncontrollable waves. Her shoulders shook with silent sobs, the weight of her past crushing down upon her like a collapsing building.
Chiqui sat beside her, alarmed yet patient, placing a comforting hand on Eve's back.
"Eve…" she said gently, "Who was that woman?"
