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Red was never safe

Calista stepped into the venue as if stepping into another life. Soft lights and shoes shimmered against polished floors. Nothing about this place felt simple. She hadn't planned for complications either.

Her reflection in the hallway glass stopped her. The dress. Her dress. Isa and she had bled time and perfection into it, re-sewing the collar until it obeyed, trimming the hem until it danced instead of clung. The skirt flirted with the air at her knees, bright red and unapologetic. She chose the color on day one. Bold. The car. A heart that refused to hide.

Everyone knew she was with Luca. They hadn't talked about prom, so she assumed they would skip it like every other tradition they rolled their eyes at.

Then Niklas asked.

One sentence. One look. A question fired straight through her defenses. She didn't think. She said yes. Her heartbeat answered before she did.

Now she stood beside him beneath the glittering lights, pretending her pulse wasn't trying to climb out of her chest. Niklas was quiet, but his silence pressed against her ribs more than any words could. He didn't stake a claim. He didn't need to.

Calista prayed Luca wouldn't get hurt. He would understand. Maybe. Hopefully. She tucked the thought deep inside before it fractured her smile.

The ballroom spun with excitement. Friends laughing. London winking through tall windows.

Niklas extended his hand. Just a gesture. Just a dance.

A single pause. A single heartbeat. Then her fingers found his. Her pulse answered for her, loud and reckless. The world shrank. The truth grew loud.

Prom wasn't about decisions or promises. Tonight, she was allowing herself to feel.

For one night, feeling was enough.