“You’re not supposed to know it’s me,” Tessa said, her voice muffled slightly by the ornate black and gold mask covering half her face. She tilted her head, the feathers on her mask catching the dim light of the chandelier above.

Yuri smirked, leaning casually against the marble pillar. He was dressed in a tailored navy suit, his own silver mask glinting as he crossed his arms. They’d known each other for years, ever since Tessa started working at the gallery where Yuri curated exhibits. Her emerald gown hugged her curves, and the way she moved—confident, deliberate—always caught his eye, even in a room full of masked strangers.

“You think I wouldn’t recognize your laugh?” he said, his voice low. Tessa’s lips curved into a smile, but before she could respond, the music shifted, and a hand tapped Yuri’s shoulder. A masked stranger stood there, holding out a small, folded note. Yuri glanced at Tessa, then back at the stranger, who disappeared into the crowd without a word.