The gathering was small and Galilea seemed more approachable.

Just as her speech wrapped up, the music from Tyrone's piano dwindled.

Rising from his piano bench, he strolled leisurely towards Galilea.

Hand in hand, they moved to the banquet hall's heart.

He positioned his hand on her waist, and she rested hers on his shoulder-the classic commencement of a dance.

Music filled the hall.

Their bodies swayed in harmony with the rhythmic beats.

As an observer, Sabrina had to acknowledge that the dance postures of the two were perfectly synchronized and complemented each other.

Galilea, a seasoned dancer, twirled like a feather-light butterfly, dancing with the music's pulse and nestling in Tyrone's arms.

Their synergy suggested they were frequent dance partners.

Sabrina, a novice, had once stepped on Tyrone's toes in a dance.

She finally comprehended Galilea's air of superiority.

She was the one who first savored Tyrone's kindness.

He serenaded her on the piano, danced, tutored her in German, narrated German tales, purchased her cakes, and cooked.

Sabrina always lagged behind.

She wore a dejected look.

It felt Like the chasm between her and Tyrone had never been clearer.

She once believed she understood Tyrone, but that was an illusion.

Tyrone never fully exposed his genuine self to her. The man she knew was merely the facade he chose to display.

She was oblivious to aspects he preferred to keep hidden, like his piano skills she had only just discovered.