Her words sounded like helpful advice, but each sentence made me feel like I was being silently compared, as if she was implyingI didn't belong in this circle—that I was just an outsider people were curious about.
I frowned but remained polite. "Thanks for the advice."
"Of course," she continued, elegantly checking her appearance. "In places like this, breeding and upbringing still matter quite a bit. But I'm sure you'll adapt quickly."
Her manner was perfectly refined, but every gesture made me feel particularly ordinary, like a commoner who'd stumbled into an elite gathering.
The air felt suffocating. I regretted leaving Alexander's side.
I was about to say goodbye when I noticed something as she turned to fix her hair—a pair of exquisite sapphire earrings.
My heart lurched. Those earrings looked remarkably similar to part of the family heirloom jewelry collection in Alexander's study. The same cut, the same setting, the same brilliant sapphires...
But maybe they just looked alike, I told myself. There were lots of similar pieces of jewelry in the world—it didn't have to be the same set.
The woman seemed to notice my gaze and deliberately touched her earring, making the sapphire sparkle even more under the lights.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" she said warmly. "It was a gift from a very dear friend."
She gracefully packed up her makeup and smiled before leaving. "See you later. Hope you enjoy the rest of your evening."
But something in her eyes made me feel dismissed, as if she was implying something.
When I returned to the ballroom, I immediately spotted the woman in red standing close to Alexander, deep in conversation. They stood very near each other, the woman laughing occasionally. Their interaction looked familiar, natural.
I was about to walk over when I saw the woman "accidentally" spill red wine on her dress.
"Oh, how clumsy of me!" she exclaimed.
Alexander immediately slipped off his jacket and draped it over her shoulders—the movement natural and practiced, like he'd done itcountless times before. The woman looked at him gratefully, her hand stroking the jacket's lapel in an intimate, familiar gesture.
"Thank you, Alexander," she said softly. "You're always so thoughtful."
Just then, two society women walked past, quietly commenting on the scene.
"They look so perfect together," one sighed.
"Yes, such a shame they broke up when they were so well-matched," the other said regretfully. "Tatyana is so accomplished. I don't know why Alexander would choose someone else."
Hearing those words, my heart stopped.
Tatyana. This woman was Alexander's ex-girlfriend.
Her gaze found mine over Alexander's shoulder. Her lips curved slightly upward—that warm smile carrying a hint of triumph. The sapphire earrings glittered under the lights, as if silently declaring ownership.
She continued talking to Alexander, laughing occasionally, her hand casually brushing his arm. And Alexander seemed accustomed to this contact, not pulling away.
Standing in the crowd, watching this scene, I felt like something had slammed into my chest. Those mysterious earrings, that intimate interaction, the strangers' gossip, and that look in her eyes—like she was marking her territory—all made me feel like an unwelcome intruder.
My hands began trembling.
As a journalist, I'd witnessed countless scenes like this—powerful people and their complicated relationships. I knew the rules of this world, knew how men moved between different women, knew how past lovers cast shadows over present relationships.
But when you become part of the story yourself, all rational analysis becomes meaningless.
I remembered Tatyana's words in the restroom: "Understanding the rules matters more than playing the game." Now I understood what she meant. She wasn't challenging me—she was reminding me that I didn't understand the rules, that I didn't belong inthis world.
My breathing became shallow. This feeling was like the loneliness from that night five years ago, magnified a thousandfold. Back then, I thought I'd only lost a stranger, but now... now I might lose everything I thought I had.
