The grand ballroom shimmered with crystal chandeliers and polished marble floors, a palace of power and prestige.
Maria adjusted the cuff of her velvet-red gown and took a deep breath.
Tonight, she was more than a fashion icon. She was a survivor. A queen in her own right.
The meet-and-greet was the gala's crescendo-a carefully orchestrated hour where VIPs and honorees mingled behind closed doors, away from the cameras.
Maria moved gracefully through the crowd, her sharp eyes scanning for familiar faces and, more importantly, avoiding one name etched deep in her mind: Liz.
The room's atmosphere was thick with whispered anticipation.
Sara walked closely beside Maria, ever her protector, her calm shield.
A few polite nods here, some warm handshakes there.
Then-there.
Across the room.
Liz.
She was stunning in her black and white suit, the very picture of composure.
Their eyes locked briefly – an electric charge in the air.
Maria's breath hitched. She turned her gaze away swiftly.
Minutes later, the inevitable happened.
The VIPs were called forward to greet the keynote speaker, Liz Runbert.
Sara stood besides Maria like a steel wall, while Liz had a tall, no-nonsense assistant named Mark trailing her like a shadow.
The universe, apparently, had a cruel sense of humor.
They ended up across from each other at the same time.
Silence swallowed the space between them.
Maria's face was unreadable. Liz's was composed–too composed. That faint twitch of her jaw betrayed her.
Mark stepped slightly in front of Liz, whispering something into her ear.
Sara immediately moved in too, placing a gentle but firm hand on Maria's back.
"It's fine," Maria whispered. "I've got this."
For the first time in over six years, they were standing face to face.
Maria's voice was the first to break the tension.
"Doctor Runbert," Maria said quietly, voice steady but cold.
"Fashion Designer Ailenie," Liz replied, her smile calm but eyes calculating.
Their exchange was brief, words clipped but loaded with meaning.
Photographers clicked rapidly, capturing the historical moment. Two women, once intertwined in a painful past, now locked in a silent battle of power and poise.
Sara extended a hand to Mark–introductions made between guards before the women they protected.
Maria's smile never faltered, but inside, her heart pounded like a war drum.
Sara leaned in, whispering, "You did great."
Maria nodded, pushing down the storm of memories and emotions threatening to surface.
As the meet-and-greet ended, the room buzzed with excitement.
No drama. No confrontation.
But beneath it all, there was a storm so loud that even silence couldn't cover it.
Maria left before her hands started trembling.
Later that night, at home, her daughter who was playing with Sara parents who had come to visit, ran up to her, arms wide.
Maria dropped to her knees and hugged her tightly.
She said nothing to her child.
"Mommy, are you okay?" Lila asked.
"It's nothing baby, mommy is just exhausted."
But inside, her heart screamed.
Because now she knew:
Liz was back. And the past was no longer past.