Eve fell naturally into the twin air kisses. Her eyes twinkled, smile deep and full. The surprise was as pleasant as the faint fizz of the champagne, warming from the inside, though now the question had time to truly settle – how and why was Daphne here? They had kept in touch after she’d left the Custody, in texts and private messages mostly, because Eve had deleted all her social media when she crossed the ocean. She didn’t want to know what Gui was up to any more than she already did. And Daphne had always been more free with herself through the medium of a screen. They’d come to know each other well that way.
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, and meant it honestly. Though she naturally paused to wonder for a moment if Emmeline and Timothée had finally armed their daughter with the task of convincing Eve back to charm their son, she realised almost in the same breath that it was impossible. Daphne had known she was in America but not where specifically, and in any case she had sounded as equally surprised at the good fortune of their reunion as Eve. Nor did she truly believe Daph would have done it anyway. She often seemed to know Eve’s true feelings without her having to speak them first, and Eve thought she might be the only person alive who even suspected Eve’s own feet had been growing cold before what had happened… happened.
Her curiosity abounded without any shadow of accusation, and she decided quickly that Daphne’s presence here had nothing to do with her at all.
Around them the gallery was quickly building in anticipation, the laughter louder, the popping of corks and fountains of liquid refills readying for the moment. Eve loved these people, knew it was her last celebration among them, but she also knew Daphne would freeze up the moment everyone was hugging and kissing at the stroke of midnight. “Will you come with me for some air?” It wasn’t said in pity or self-sacrifice, but because she wanted the space to talk – and chose it over the festivities, because Daphne was her friend. With anyone else she would have looped her arm in companionable familiarity, but with Daph she didn’t. Instead she leaned closer, and delicately pointed out the route of their escape.
The sounds were muffled once they were outside. The air had a freezing snap to it, though there was a tiny patio heater sending out a determined orange glow. A few abandoned flutes of champagne sat on the wall, and a bucket of ice with an empty bottle underneath. Lights were strung above like a little canopy of stars. No smokers huddled this close to midnight, though there was still the faint trace of it amidst the lingering trail of expensive perfume. Eve let the flame fill her, just enough to warm the air around them comfortably. She wanted something private and magical, not miserable and cold.
She smiled a little while she did it, just for the pleasure of the action. It wasn’t a secret she kept with any grandeur, though neither had she ever made a spectacle of it. Now they were alone, she wanted to ask about Gui. Or at least, she wanted Daphne to tell her he was doing okay without having to talk about him at all. Love had never been the problem, and she still felt it like a glowing constant when she thought about him. She imagined she always would, and didn’t feel sad about it. That, at least, had never been a doubt in her mind, even when she began to realise that neither was it enough.
Inside the counting had begun, and then the cheering. Eve laughed a little. A new year. A new beginning, but what she said when she turned to her friend, was “Happy birthday.”
“It’s so good to see you,” she said, and meant it honestly. Though she naturally paused to wonder for a moment if Emmeline and Timothée had finally armed their daughter with the task of convincing Eve back to charm their son, she realised almost in the same breath that it was impossible. Daphne had known she was in America but not where specifically, and in any case she had sounded as equally surprised at the good fortune of their reunion as Eve. Nor did she truly believe Daph would have done it anyway. She often seemed to know Eve’s true feelings without her having to speak them first, and Eve thought she might be the only person alive who even suspected Eve’s own feet had been growing cold before what had happened… happened.
Her curiosity abounded without any shadow of accusation, and she decided quickly that Daphne’s presence here had nothing to do with her at all.
Around them the gallery was quickly building in anticipation, the laughter louder, the popping of corks and fountains of liquid refills readying for the moment. Eve loved these people, knew it was her last celebration among them, but she also knew Daphne would freeze up the moment everyone was hugging and kissing at the stroke of midnight. “Will you come with me for some air?” It wasn’t said in pity or self-sacrifice, but because she wanted the space to talk – and chose it over the festivities, because Daphne was her friend. With anyone else she would have looped her arm in companionable familiarity, but with Daph she didn’t. Instead she leaned closer, and delicately pointed out the route of their escape.
The sounds were muffled once they were outside. The air had a freezing snap to it, though there was a tiny patio heater sending out a determined orange glow. A few abandoned flutes of champagne sat on the wall, and a bucket of ice with an empty bottle underneath. Lights were strung above like a little canopy of stars. No smokers huddled this close to midnight, though there was still the faint trace of it amidst the lingering trail of expensive perfume. Eve let the flame fill her, just enough to warm the air around them comfortably. She wanted something private and magical, not miserable and cold.
She smiled a little while she did it, just for the pleasure of the action. It wasn’t a secret she kept with any grandeur, though neither had she ever made a spectacle of it. Now they were alone, she wanted to ask about Gui. Or at least, she wanted Daphne to tell her he was doing okay without having to talk about him at all. Love had never been the problem, and she still felt it like a glowing constant when she thought about him. She imagined she always would, and didn’t feel sad about it. That, at least, had never been a doubt in her mind, even when she began to realise that neither was it enough.
Inside the counting had begun, and then the cheering. Eve laughed a little. A new year. A new beginning, but what she said when she turned to her friend, was “Happy birthday.”
![[Image: eve-age-banner-scaled.jpg]](https://thefirstage.org/wp-content/uploads/2025/10/eve-age-banner-scaled.jpg)