Inside the prep room, he yanked open the closet and pulled on the dark emerald tux that had been picked days ago. The silk lapel shimmered under the light, sharp enough to cut. But Craig barely looked in the mirror.
"Where the hell have you been?" Adriana asked the moment she saw him, already dressed in champagne satin and glittering heels.
"I'm here," he muttered, brushing past her.
"We have to do the entrance. And smile, okay? Nothing crazy tonight."
He didn't answer.
The venue breathed luxury. Sharp glimmers of crystal mixed with the fizz of champagne, velvet walls absorbing every whispered secret beneath glittering chandeliers. Celebrities, influencers, athletes — all gathered for him.
But Craig wasn't there.
Not really.
He smiled, laughed, and nodded politely at the endless stream of 'Happy Birthday, Craig' he received tonight, but none of it reached his eyes. Even the sweet speeches made in his honor felt like they belonged to someone else. Not him.
