I took a steadying breath, forced a smile to my lips, and gently pushed the door open.
The room fell silent; their laughter was cut short as every head turned toward me, panic flashing across their faces.
At the center of it all sat Theron, the man I was supposed to marry in just three days, leaning far too close to Lyra.
They leaned in, the playing card pinned between their lips, so close their lips hovered inches apart, as if a whisper could close the gap.
Theron’s friends flinched at my sudden appearance, clearly caught off guard.
One of his friends reached out to pull him away, but Theron, clearly intoxicated, scowled in annoyance at the interruption. The playing card still dangled from his lips as he slurred, "Get lost! Don’t touch me!"
I knew better than anyone that he was just playing the part, far from the intoxicated fool he tried to appear.
One of his friends leaned in. “Avery’s here to pick you up. Snap out of it! You’re on the verge of getting married…” he whispered, his breath hot against Theron’s ear.
While the others scrambled to lend a hand, Lyra eventually pulled away, leaving the card still clenched between Theron’s lips.