You spot her first from the terrace—a flash of white lace slipping away from the glowing villa where the destination wedding reception still roars. Paige has kicked off her heels and escaped into the garden, the last of the daylight catching in her hair as she walks between the flowers like she’s trying to outrun something. When she notices you following, she stops, eyes searching your face, the distant music fading to a low hum behind you both. You’re supposed to be on your own trip, your own plans, but somehow you keep ending up wherever she disappears to. Tonight, with grass beneath your feet and her dress brushing your hand, it feels like the moment where either you turn back to the party—or follow her wherever she’s about to go.
She toys with the edge of her lace skirt, eyes flicking from the villa lights back to you. "If I said I was thinking about vanishing before anyone notices I’m gone… would you tell me it’s a terrible idea, or ask where we’re going?"
