Aleena
I fixed my hair until my hands stopped trembling, smoothed the dress back into place, and left the room as if nothing had happened.
The hallway felt longer on the way down with every step reminding me of the heat that’s still lingering between my legs and the faint sensitivity of where his fingers had been.
By the time I reached the bottom of the stairs, I had forced my expression into something neutral, but my body hadn’t caught up.
The party was still going and music drifted in from the garden, voices overlapped in the soft, polished way they always did at these things.
Sophia looked up when I returned to the table.
“There you are.
I was about to come looking.”
“I just needed air,” I said, sitting down and picking up my glass.
The champagne had gone warm but I drank it anyway.
Liam was still beside her.
He glanced at me, then away, then back again like he couldn’t quite help it, I gave him a polite nod and turned toward Sophia before the moment could stretch.
“Your mother has been the center of attention this night,” Sophia said.
“Half the women here keep going over to congratulate her.”
I made a small sound of agreement and let her keep talking.
At least that was easier than filling the silence myself.
Around us, guests moved between tables in slow currents.
Someone laughed too loudly near the drinks, then a man I vaguely recognized from one of my mother’s lunches stopped by to say the evening had been beautifully arranged.
I smiled, thanked him, and waited until he moved on.
Every shift in my seat brought back the memory of being pressed against the wall upstairs, of his mouth, of how easily I had come apart for him.
I kept my composure relaxed and my face calm, but underneath it I was restless.
He had left the room so controlled, so composed, as if he could simply put it away, maybe he could but for me?…
I couldn’t.
The want was still there, sharper now that I knew exactly how he touched me when no one else was watching.
Sophia leaned closer.
“You’re quiet tonight.”
“Its been a long day,” I said.
“I’m just ready for it to wind down.”
She accepted that and turned back to Liam, who had started telling her something about a project at work.
I let their conversation wash over me without really joining it.
A few seats away, two of my mother’s friends were discussing the floral arrangements with the kind of detailed appreciation that made it clear they were measuring everything against their own events.
I caught pieces of it and felt the familiar, tired recognition of how these evenings always worked.
I stood after a while and moved toward the edge of the garden under the excuse of getting another drink and there, a woman from my mother’s old circle stopped me halfway to the stand with a compliment.
“Aleena, you look lovely.
That dress is stunning on you.” she commented.
“Thank you,” I said, and kept the smile in place while she asked about my design work and whether I have found a place to intern, as she could link me up with a couple of her friends in that field.
I answered the way I always did at these things with brief, pleasant responses, nothing too personal and only escaped when someone else claimed her attention.
The night stretched on in small interactions like that.
However, underneath it all, my mind kept returning to the room upstairs, back to the way he kissed me so passionately as though he finally got what he was running from and even to the rough edge in his voice when he told me I was soaked.
To how quickly I had come for him and how little it had seemed to shake him afterward.
The contrast sat in my chest like a low, persistent irritation mixed with something hungrier.
I was pleased, but not satisfied!
Guests began leaving in slow groups.
My mother remained at the center of it, accepting final compliments and promising to be in touch about the wedding.
I stayed by my mother’s side during this time, bidding farewell to the guests as they made their way out, and I was with her long enough to make sure she felt like I had her back, then finally I walked Sophia and Liam to their ride thanking Sophia for being there for me before I made my way back toward the house as the last clusters of people started moving toward the cars as well.
The lights inside felt too bright after the softer garden lighting.
My heels sounded louder on the floor than I wanted them to.
I climbed the stairs without rushing and closed my bedroom door behind me with a quiet click.
I leaned against it for a moment in the dark, the same way I had earlier.
The dress suddenly felt restrictive.
I reached back, unzipped it, and let it fall to the floor before stepping out of it.
My skin was still warm.
When I pressed my thighs together, the lingering sensitivity made my breath catch.
I hung the dress up carefully, pulled on a soft sleeve shirt, and lay down on top of the sheets without turning on the light.
Sleep felt far away because every time I closed my eyes I was back against that wall with his mouth on mine and his fingers moving inside me.
The want hadn’t eased with time or distance.
If anything, it had settled deeper, sharper, and far less willing to be ignored.
I stared at the ceiling for a long while, listening to the muted sounds of the house settling after the party, and I allowed the restlessness to stay exactly where it was.