(Third Person POV — That same night after the kiss)
The ballroom was silent. Deadly silent.
Except for the heavy, painful thud of Sofia's heartbeat.
Every eye was on her.
The giant screen that had earlier played sweet montages of her and Zayn's childhood memories was now frozen — glitching, then suddenly flickering to life again.
Only this time, it wasn't childhood memories playing.
It was a photo.
One single photo.
A dimly lit corner. A girl in a velvet red mask. A boy in a black one, pressed against her. Lips locked in a scandalous kiss.
And then… the masks slipped just enough to reveal the faces.
Sofia Amari. Khalid Voss.
Gasps broke through the crowd like shattered glass.
Sofia couldn't breathe.
Her head was still swimming from the wine earlier, her lips still tingled with the memory of the kiss. What had started as a teasing peck — one she barely remembered initiating — had spiraled into something else entirely. Something dangerous. Something forbidden.
She hadn't meant to grab him. She hadn't meant for it to be him.
But he kissed her back. He pressed her to the wall and kissed her like she was his oxygen. And now—
"What the hell is this?!"
Her father's voice thundered across the ballroom.
Every guest flinched.
Sabrina, standing smugly at the foot of the stage, flicked her hair and folded her arms, a satisfied smirk resting on her glossed lips. She looked too pleased with herself. Like a cat who had caught a mouse and was now parading it for the world to admire.
Her phone was in her hand.
She took the picture.
And she showed it — not privately. Not to just Sofia or to their father.
She projected it.
To everyone.
To the Voss family.
To Zayn.
He was standing right there — tux crumpled slightly, wine glass nearly falling from his hand. His face was unreadable for a terrifying second.
Then came the fire.
"Sofia," he said, his voice sharp. "Tell me this is fake."
She opened her mouth. Nothing came out.
The shame, the confusion, the wine, the flashing cameras — everything caved in on her at once.
Her father turned slowly to her. His eyes were bloodshot. His hands shook as he walked down the small staircase and approached her like a storm.
"You filthy, ungrateful child—"
"Sir, please—"
Her stepmother, Clarisse, stepped in with a horrified gasp, placing her palm gently on his chest.
"Let's not make a scene—"
"There's already a scene, Clarisse!" he shouted, brushing her hand off. "My daughter just humiliated me in front of the entire City A elite!"
Sofia flinched, stepping back.
He didn't hit her. But he wanted to.
She saw it in his eyes.
Her hands trembled as she whispered, "I… didn't mean to…"
"Didn't mean to?" Zayn barked. "You kissed my brother, Sofia! At our engagement party!"
The silence deepened as attention shifted slightly — to Khalid.
He sat in the front row, arms folded, legs crossed, face unreadable.
Not embarrassed. Not apologetic.
Just cold.
Like this had nothing to do with him.
Like she had kissed a wall.
Her heart dropped.
He wasn't going to say anything.
Not even to defend her.
She felt like the ground had cracked beneath her.
"Drag her to her room!" her father finally ordered, his voice hoarse.
But just as the guards stepped forward, a loud voice pierced the air.
"You will not lay a hand on her!"
It was Hajara.
Fierce. Unapologetic. Dressed in a midnight blue gown with combat boots under her hem.
She marched down the aisle like a general, her curls bouncing with every step.
"Y'all must have forgotten who I am. Sofia's best friend. Her real sister. Not some snake in a designer dress."
Sabrina rolled her eyes.
Hajara didn't even spare her a glance.
"So she made a mistake? A kiss? Oh wow, call the morality police. Let's ignore the cheating billionaires in this room and go after the one girl who's never done anything wrong in her life!"
"If you had treated he more like your daughter and less like a chess piece, she wouldn't have gone around kissing strangers in her own engagement party."
The silence cracked again.
No one dared respond.
She walked straight to Sofia, pulled her into a tight hug, and whispered, "Let's go. No one here deserves to look at you."
Sofia's eyes stung with tears.
She looked up just once — toward her father. Toward Khalid. Toward the girl who betrayed her.
And then she let Hajara lead her out.
---
Later, in the quiet of her room, the weight settled in her chest.
She curled up on the bed, makeup smudged, dress wrinkled, soul tired.
But somehow, beneath all the shame… a small flicker of rebellion warmed her chest.
She hadn't listened to her father.
Not this time.
For once… her action was hers.
Even if it broke her world.
Downstairs, the Voss family exited the mansion in fury.
Clarisse "calmed" her husband in public, her voice sugary and smooth, while her eyes sparkled in cruel delight.
Sabrina's heels clicked proudly on the marble floors.
And Khalid?
He got into a black, low-profile Porsche and drove off into the night — his expression unreadable, his heartbeat buried beneath layers of silence.