The hall was ablaze with light, yet stepping inside felt like wandering into a silent film. Mouths moved, expressions shifted—laughter, disdain, curiosity—but the world remained dead silent. Equal parts panic and absurdity clawed at my chest.
Joshua moved through the crowd with Isabella Pruitt on his arm. They looked like the perfect power couple, while I trailed behind like a servant, a shadow they couldn't quite shake.
Strange looks followed me. Some held mockery, others pity, but most were just hungry for a spectacle.
"Oh, isn't this Mrs. Sawyer? Why so quiet today?"
A woman in a crimson dress blocked my path. Isabella's best friend. She had never missed an opportunity to stick the knife in.
I watched her lips move, piecing together the insults. Ignoring her, I tried to sidestep, but she wouldn't let it go. Her hand shot out and shoved my shoulder.
"I'm talking to you! Why are you pretending to be deaf?"
I staggered, barely keeping my balance. The guests around us closed in, pointing and whispering.
Joshua noticed the commotion. He strode over, his expression dark. "What's going on?"