The cool night air stung Angela's skin as she stepped off the grand terrace of the estate, her crimson gown fluttering in the faint breeze. It was an oppressive kind of cold, sharp and unforgiving, much like the thoughts battering her mind. Julie's biting words still rang in her ears, their venom impossible to ignore, each syllable a dagger carving into her chest.
He's lying. Just like your father.
Beside her, Edmund walked in silence. His jaw was set in a way that betrayed his inner turmoil, his hands clenched into tight fists at his sides. For all his usual composure, Angela could see the cracks now, tiny fractures in his unshakable demeanor. It was a rare sight, and it only fueled her own anger.
The expansive garden stretched out before them, its beauty a cruel contrast to the chaos brewing between them. String lights dangled from the trees, casting a soft glow over the carefully manicured hedges and flower beds.