The room applauded before the bride even reached the aisle.
Lerato Modise stood at the back of the ballroom, tablet pressed against her chest, lips curved into a smile she had perfected over twelve years in the business. Soft lighting. White orchids. A string quartet swelling at precisely the right moment. Everything was flawless.
As it should be.
She scanned the room automatically, waitstaff moving on cue, champagne refilled before glasses dipped below halfway, photographers in position for the money shot. The kind of perfection people assumed happened naturally.
It never did.
Her phone vibrated in her hand. She didn't look.
She already knew…
Invoices overdue. Supplier reminders dressed up as politeness. The bank manager who had stopped calling and started emailing.
Still, the applause grew louder, and Lerato let it wash over her. She had built a career on this on being the woman who could hold everything together while everyone else celebrated.
The bride caught her eye from across the room and mouthed, thank you.
Lerato nodded.
That was the job. Be invisible. Be indispensable.
By the time the guests were seated and the speeches began, her chest felt tight. Not panic not yet. Something worse. Exhaustion that had seeped into her bones and decided to live there.
She slipped out quietly, heels clicking softly down the corridor, until she reached the service entrance. The noise dulled behind her. The city exhaled.
Only then did she check her phone.
FINAL NOTICE.
She closed her eyes and drew a deep breath. Twelve years. Three offices. Two hundred employees over time.
And one man who had taught her the most expensive lesson of her life.
She leaned against the wall and let herself breathe, slow and controlled, the way she had learned to during her first year running events on borrowed money and blind faith.
Her phone buzzed again. This time, it was her sister.
You're not answering. Are you okay?
Lerato stared at the message, then typed back:
Busy. Event in full swing. The lie slid out easily.
That night, back in her apartment overlooking the city lights, Lerato kicked off her heels and sat on the floor, back against the couch. The silence was loud.
She replayed the moment she had trusted him. The shared dream. The promises. The way he had looked her in the eye and sworn he was building with her.
Three years later, he was in Thailand with his fiancée and a portion of her money.
She laughed then. A short, hollow sound.
"Idiot," she whispered. To herself.
She poured herself a glass of champagne nothing to celebrate even the brute tasted awful just like her life lately.
Sleep didn't come.
It rarely did anymore.
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