Later, while the guests were distracted by the cake, I saw her again — she was standing with her back to everyone, leaning over my glass. She looked nervously around, holding a small bottle almost hidden in her hand.

And in a single moment, convinced no one was watching, she poured its contents straight into my champagne. She did it slowly, carefully, as if she were adding the final drops of poison in one of those crime novels she loves to discuss.