The room went quiet the second Safira’s bare feet started talking. Laughter poured out of her, sharp and continuous, the sort that leaves a person looking cheaper than they walked in. No clever recovery. No last tough line. Just pure helplessness from the feet up.

The first laugh surprised Safira. The second embarrassed her. The third taught her a lesson. Every time she thought she'd won, another laugh slipped through the cracks. That's the thing about losing control. It never asks if you're ready.