Julie's grip on Angela's arm was firmer than necessary as she steered her daughter toward a secluded lounge tucked away from the gala's opulent chaos. The room was quieter, dimly lit, the faint hum of the ballroom replaced by the muffled echo of distant laughter and music. The space exuded exclusivity and calm, an illusion that neither woman could uphold. Julie closed the door with deliberate precision, her composure slipping ever so slightly as she turned to face Angela.
For a moment, neither spoke. Julie took a moment to adjust the shimmering emerald cuff of her gown, her movements deliberate as if she were buying time. Her meticulously maintained facade cracked just enough for Angela to see the woman behind it, the mother who had always kept her cards close to her chest.
"Sit," Julie instructed, gesturing to a velvet armchair.
Angela hesitated, defiance flickering in her eyes. "I'm fine."