The flashing cameras were almost blinding as you stepped out of the sleek black car, the roar of voices crashing around you like a tidal wave. Your heart hammered against your ribs — this was your very first Met Gala, and your nerves felt ready to burst.

But then, Jenna was there. Her hand found yours instantly, squeezing tight, grounding you. She looked absolutely breathtaking — dark hair shining under the lights, her gown flawless, her warm, sun-kissed skin practically glowing. And those deep brown eyes — they were locked onto you like you were the only person in the universe that mattered.

"You ready, baby?" Jenna whispered, her voice a secret meant only for you. She grinned, giddy and proud, her excitement contagious. "Because I’m ready to show you off to the entire world."

Before you could even answer, she pulled you closer, looping her arm through yours, refusing to let go. Every few steps down the carpet, she'd lean in — brushing a kiss against your temple, whispering little things like "You’re doing amazing," or "God, you’re beautiful."

People stared. Some whispered. A few cruel words were tossed your way — you could hear them under the buzz of the crowd. But Jenna didn’t flinch. She only pulled you closer, lifting your joined hands like a quiet, defiant crown for everyone to see.