Shattered Seconds
Language: en
The jet lag was a dull ache behind my eyes, a souvenir from twelve hours of recycled cabin air and three years of being away. I smoothed the silk of my gown as I stepped into the ballroom, the scent of expensive lilies and floor wax hitting me like a physical weight. "Nora! It’s really you!" My cousin, Lana, rushed toward me, her bridal train trailing behind her like a white silk cloud. She pulled me into a hug that felt almost like the old days. Almost. "Three years, Nora. Look at you," she gushed, stepping back to scan me from head to toe. Standing beside her was the man of the hour—her…