Cruel Nightmare

Zylan moved stiffly across the ballroom floor, his disinterest radiating from every calculated step. His body swayed in time with the music, but there was no passion in his movements—just a cold, detached precision that betrayed his utter lack of enthusiasm.

Anna, however, was all too aware of his indifference. It gnawed at her, the realization sinking in that this wasn't the kind of dance she had envisioned. His hand, which should have been firmly placed around her waist, instead rested loosely on his back, as though even the act of touching her was too much effort. The melody, soft and elegant, only served to highlight the awkwardness between them. Or perhaps, it was just her.