Maj found him before the music did. Town Hall was all chandeliers and velvet and ghosts of other years, but Ford stood out like a fixed point—burgundy suit that matched her dress so perfectly it made her chest ache a little. She paused a few steps away, letting herself take him in, grounding, the way she’d learned to do when feelings came in hot. Then she crossed the distance, slipping in beside him like muscle memory. “Okay,” she murmured, eyes flicking down to his suit, then back up to his face, a crooked smile breaking through. “Rude of you to match me this well without warning. I look coordinated. Emotionally unprepared for that.” Her fingers brushed his sleeve, tentative but intentional. The room shimmered—last year’s fear, this year’s fragile hope. She breathed it in anyway. “New year’s still kind of a loaded venue for me,” she admitted softly, gaze drifting to the dance floor before returning to him. “But… I wanted to be here. With you.” A beat. Honest, unguarded. “Feels different this time. Like I’m actually here— not surviving it, not hiding in your spare room, not running.” Her thumb traced a small circle against his arm, grounding herself again. “Also,” she added, lighter now, teasing warmth slipping back in, “I just want it on record that you clean up unfairly well.” @mcnstercus
