Cassandra, desperate to escape the suffocating atmosphere of the ballroom, turned to the only solace she could think of: wine. She began accepting glasses from passing waiters, the liquid burning a temporary path down her throat, a futile attempt to numb the pain in her heart.
Each glass was a desperate attempt to drown out the reality of her situation, the weight of her unwanted engagement. But the wine only amplified her despair, making her feel more suffocated, more trapped.
Feeling dizzy and disoriented, she stumbled out of the ballroom, gasping for fresh air. She needed to escape the noise, the music, the pitying glances. She wandered through the gardens, the cool night air a welcome contrast to the stifling heat of the ballroom. She finally found herself by a well, its stone rim cool against her burning skin. She sank to the ground beside it, the tears she had held back finally spilling over. She sobbed uncontrollably, the sound swallowed by the stillness of the night.
