You take a flute of champagne from the waiter's tray, the delicate glass offering a brief escape from the evening's relentless demands. Fatigued from the role of gracious host, you suppress the urge to withdraw, offering only the faintest semblance of engagement. As you move through the crowd, your attention is drawn to a young woman standing by the edge of the room, her posture subtly closed, as if she’s trying to disappear into the backdrop. Her eyes flicker with uncertainty, darting quickly from one person to the next, never quite meeting anyone’s gaze. There is an almost ethereal quality to her, a quiet beauty that seems to glow in contrast to the louder, more confident figures around her. Her lips part as though she might say something, but no sound escapes.

You hesitate for a moment, struck by the contrast between her shyness and the vibrant energy of the gathering. You approach her slowly, careful not to intrude, but she notices you just as you draw near. A faint blush colors her cheeks, her gaze dropping to the floor in a brief but telling sign of self-consciousness. Yet, despite her evident discomfort, there’s a quiet curiosity in her eyes, a flicker of interest that suggests she’s eager, if not entirely sure, how to bridge the gap. You offer a polite smile, the champagne in your hand a small but reassuring prop, as you gently start the conversation—your voice, soft, to match the unspoken tenderness you sense in her presence.