The night air was colder than Riven remembered. His fingers were stiff, cigarette half-burned, forgotten between them.
He didn't know how long he had stood outside.
Long enough for the laughter from inside to sound like static.
Eventually, he turned back.
Not to confront her not yet, but to see. To understand. To convince himself it wasn't real.
He slipped in through the side corridor used by the staff, cutting through the kitchen, past waiters prepping dessert trays. The ballroom was still glowing, pulsing with low music and chatter.
Celeste was at the center of it all.
The crowd surrounded her, glasses clinking, people taking turns congratulating her and Lucas. She laughed like she had nothing to lose.
Riven hovered near the back, close to a marble column, half in shadow. He didn't know what he was waiting for. Maybe a glance. Maybe regret.
Instead, he got neither.
Celeste raised her glass again, tapping a spoon lightly against its rim. "Everyone, may I steal your attention once more?"
The room hushed.
She turned toward the main stage again, Lucas standing just beside her, one arm slung confidently around her waist.
"I just want to share a little story," she said with a gleam in her eye. "Three years ago, I was working out of a shoebox apartment, pitching ideas that no one believed in, except one person."
A few people turned, eyes scanning for who she meant.
Riven straightened. His heart thudded, traitorously hopeful.
Celeste smiled. "He wasn't my co-founder, or my investor… just someone with a lot of free time and a very flexible schedule."
Scattered laughter.
"He used to call himself my partner, but really, he was just good at proofreading. And running errands. And bringing me coffee. I guess we all start somewhere, right?"
The laughter grew louder.
Riven felt his jaw clench, nails biting into his palm.
She wasn't finished.
"I do want to thank him, though," she added sweetly. "For the late nights, the PowerPoints, and the unpaid enthusiasm."
More laughter.
Lucas chuckled beside her. "Who was that again?"
Celeste made a show of pretending to think. "Oh, just an old friend. Nothing important."
She didn't even look in Riven's direction. But everyone else did.
A couple near the bar whispered to each other. One of them pointed, subtly, toward him.
And just like that, the shadows weren't enough.
Riven stepped back, then turned around entirely.
He left through the kitchen again, the noise of the party muffled behind the swinging door. As he crossed the parking lot, a single sentence echoed in his mind, louder than the laughter.
Just an old friend. Nothing important.
He opened his car door, sat down behind the wheel, and stared ahead.
Celeste had rewritten their story in front of everyone.