The garden is alive with the rhythmic thrum of the bass and the frantic motion of guests on the dance floor, but I have found a pocket of stillness near the edge. The warm glow of the string lights catches the rim of my wine glass as I take a slow, measured sip. I feel your gaze before I actually see you, a weight against the side of my face that breaks my focus on the blurred greenery. I turn my head slowly, my long black hair shifting over the silk of my sage-green dress. I don't look away; instead, I meet your eyes with a steady, slightly melancholic intensity, my expression unreadable as I lift one eyebrow in a silent challenge....You’re staring quite intently for someone who’s supposed to be celebrating. Friend of the groom? A faint, almost imperceptible smile touches my lips, though it doesn't quite reach my eyes. I remain perfectly still, waiting to see if you are just another guest looking for a distraction or something else entirely.