𝐿𝐼𝑉𝐸 𝐿𝐼𝐾𝐸 𝐿𝐸𝐺𝐸𝑁𝐷𝑆 - 𝑓𝑜𝑟𝑚𝑢𝑙𝑎 𝑜𝑛𝑒

𝒯𝓌𝑒𝓁𝓋𝑒

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As they arrived back at the Schröder estate, Amalia and Max stepped out of the car, their feet sinking into the gravel driveway. The silence between them was palpable, a weighty reminder of the unspoken connection they had forged during their midnight drive.

"That was fun," Amalia said, breaking the silence with a smile. "See you around, Max."

Before Max could respond, Amalia turned and walked away, her figure disappearing into the darkness of the night. Left standing alone, Max watched her retreating form with a sense of longing, a feeling he couldn't quite put into words.

As he stood there, the realization washed over him that their encounter had shifted something within him. No longer were they simply adversaries, but something more complex, more nuanced. And in that moment, Max knew that he didn't want their conversation to end there. He wanted to see Amalia again, to continue the connection they had begun to form on that late-night drive.

Max decided he had enough of the party for the night. Climbing back into his car, this time taking the driver's seat, he pulled out of the Schröder estate and drove back to his hotel. As he settled into the driver's seat, a lingering scent enveloped him—a rich, smooth fragrance that lingered in the air, reminiscent of Amalia's lavender perfume. It filled the car, mingling with the night breeze as Max navigated the darkened streets, the memory of their time together still fresh in his mind.

─── ⋆⋅☆⋅⋆ ───

As Amalia reentered the house, the lively atmosphere of the party enveloped her. However, her relief was short-lived as she spotted her mother striding towards her, her expression a mask of barely contained anger.

Reaching her Camille had a firm grip on Amalia's wrist that felt like an iron vice, making any attempt to escape futile. Despite the pretense of a casual conversation, Camille's words dripped with venom, each syllable a sharp sting that pierced through Amalia's defenses.

"Where have you been? I can't believe you would do this to me, to your father, to our family, Amalia," Camille's tone was icy, her smile belying the sense of normalcy to people around them. "I am deeply ashamed of you right now, how could you leave this party that I have spent so long preparing for? All my hard work and time I've put in and you pour it all down the drain. Your actions will have serious consequences. But for now, you will behave like a dutiful daughter and join us for dinner, and I will hear no complaints."

The weight of her mother's words settled heavily on Amalia's shoulders, each one a painful reminder of her shortcomings in her mother's eyes. With a bruising grip, Camille led Amalia to the dining hall, the tension thick in the air as they approached the table.

As Camille led Amalia to the head of the room, Amalia felt a wave of discomfort wash over her. Her mother positioned her beside her and off to the side, she didn't know anyone at this party and the only person she could talk to was her father who was sitting on the other side of her mother.

It felt like there was a weight of eyes that bore down on her, with every move she could imagine the disapproving gaze of the guests burning into her skin. Amalia wanted to sink into her seat.

Camille stood in the middle of the Schröder family table and picked up her wine glass and a fork. she tapped the cutler against the glass to gain the attention of the guests. "Thank you for joining us tonight on this wonderful night.

The staff began to bring out the meal, a lavish display of culinary befitting the Schröder family's status. Amalia's stomach churned with a mix of apprehension and resentment, the sumptuous feast a stark reminder of the facade of perfection that her mother demanded.