富士フイルムビジネスイノベーション DocuCentre-VII C3373 PFS
There stood a woman in a sharp black blazer, rain-damp hair curling over her shoulders. Her eyes—dark, familiar, devastating—held Layla’s gaze like a dare.
Rielle frowned. “Why?”
“Because if I’m going to ruin my own bachelorette,” Layla said, her voice breaking into a smile, “I want to remember your face first.”
“Maybe not,” Rielle replied, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind Layla’s ear. “But you called me last month. Three a.m. You don’t remember?”
Layla forced a smile and rejoined the circle. Five of her closest friends, all in silk pajamas, all cheering for the final night of her “freedom.”
