The moment we stepped into the reception hall, we were hit with the same kind of background noise you'd expect from a royal gala—chattering, whispers, laughter—but with one key difference: no one was getting too close to Layla and Amelia.
And honestly, I couldn't blame them.
There they were—Layla and Amelia—sitting together like royalty. Layla had one leg elegantly crossed over the other. Amelia sat beside her, laughing softly. Together, they looked like they belonged on a painting.
Even the women in the room couldn't help but throw daggers of envy their way, while the men? They were practically holding their breath, too intimidated to approach.
Layla could charm a rock if she wanted to. That was just who she was—raised with the grace, etiquette, and poise of a future queen. But this wasn't just about manners or charm. She was talking with her sister-in-law, and anyone with half a brain could see they genuinely got along.
