Evelyn looked down at him, surprised.
Not afraid.
Just… caught off guard.
No one approached her like this. Not without introduction. Not without permission.
Certainly not like this.
The boy met her gaze without hesitation.
“Let me dance with her,” he said.
His voice was soft.
But clear.
And in the silence that followed, it sounded louder than anything else in the room.
A few people laughed under their breath.
Others frowned.
Then a man stepped forward.
William Parker.
Tall. Composed. Controlled.
A man who had built his life on certainty, on structure, on knowing exactly how things should be.
Evelyn’s father.
He placed himself between the boy and his daughter almost instinctively, his expression calm but firm.
“I think you’re in the wrong place,” he said evenly. “This is a private event.”
The boy didn’t move.
Didn’t look away.
“I just want to dance with her.”
The simplicity of it made it worse somehow.
Because it wasn’t a request built on logic.
It was something else.
Something harder to dismiss.
William’s jaw tightened slightly.
“That’s not possible.”
A murmur of agreement rippled through the crowd.
Of course it wasn’t possible.
Everyone knew that.
Everyone had accepted it years ago.
Evelyn included.