The gala buzzed around Amelia. Champagne flutes clinked, polite chatter filled the air, and she moved through it all like a queen returning to her throne. Her silk dress shimmered under the chandelier's glow, mirroring the sparkle in her own eyes. Tonight, she was presenting the research grant, a culmination of months of meticulous work, and she felt… magnificent.
A sudden tremor ran through her hand, the glass threatening to slip. It was the familiar prelude, the precursor to the dizziness. Damn. She steadied herself against a passing waiter, murmuring an apology.
Across the room, a man with a shock of silver hair and an intense gaze was staring at her. He made his way across the crowded room, a determined stride in his step. "Are you alright?" he asked, his voice low and concerned. “I saw you wobble.”
“Yes, fine,” she replied, straightening up and pasting on a smile. “Just a slight… dip in blood sugar. Nothing to worry about.” He didn’t look convinced, and that made her even more irritated.
“I know the feeling,” he said, surprising her. “I have… the same thing. I’m Dr. Alistair Finch. I noticed you too had the telltale tremor of Xylochronia.” He explained the condition she had never met anyone else with. Amelia felt a surge of… something.