C62 62

LILIANA

The champagne flute trembles slightly in my grip, its stem icy against my fingertips. The fizz tickles ny nose before I take a sip.

It's cold. Crisp. Completely useless at dulling the ache lodged in the center of my chest. I set the glass down and exhale slowly, watching the bubbles rise to the surface.

Selena's voice is a distant hum in the background