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The Met Gala was a whirlwind of glamour and chaos. The red carpet was a sea of flashing cameras and eager photographers. I stood there in my silver mermaid gown, the cool fabric shimmering under the bright lights. My silver flowers in my hair added a touch of whimsy to the futuristic look. You, in your silver suit, looked like a god among men. The photographers loved us, snapping pictures as if we were A-listers.
You leaned in, your breath hot on my ear, and I thought you were going to give me a sexy bite. Instead, you whispered, “I had an accident.” My eyes widened, but I kept my composure. “It’s okay,” I reassured you, my voice steady despite the chaos inside me. “Let’s get inside.” Once we were in, we ran into an old friend who quickly understood the situation. She led us to the washroom, her eyes sparkling with amusement. The changing table was tiny, barely big enough to sit on, let alone hold a grown man. You looked at me, a mix of embarrassment and relief in your eyes. “I can’t believe this is happening,” you muttered,
