Sibella looked absolutely stunning.

But then, she always did. Monty could not help taking a moment to admire her as they made their way through the foyer of the theatre.

Her jewellry sparkled alongside the gems on her gown, and her bright smile was a wonderful addition to her glittering ensemble. She was breathtaking, and the light reflecting off of her only accented her beauty. The only part of her that did not sparkle was her left hand, for there was no longer a ring adorning her finger. Both Monty and Phoebe had been delighted when they had noticed its abscence, and Monty had pressed a kiss to her hand in its place. Soon she would be legally separated from her husband, in addition to emotionally, physically, and symbolically.

The tickets to the ballet had been a special present for Sibella. She had always loved the ballet, and Giselle was a particular favourite. And with the Ballet Russes performing it, Sibella had been beside herself with excitement.

Monty soon realised that he was not the only one who had noticed the absence of her wedding ring. When he saw the third set of people turn to whisper to each other as she passed, he suddenly wished he had never thought to give her the tickets. Sibella had enough to worry about with the divorce proceedings, she did not need any more of society's judgement.

He glanced over at Phoebe, who held his arm, and as their eyes met he could tell that she had noticed as well. The brunette drew herself up to her full height, her nose and chin tilted upward, and Monty knew that should anyone approach Sibella, Phoebe was thoroughly prepared to come to her defense.

After what seemed like an eternity, the three of them were at last shut safely in their box within the auditorium. Sibella paused for a moment, and Phoebe saw her composure slip. Her smile disappeared, her shoulders dropped forward, and she bit her bottom lip. The brunette pulled her into a shadowed corner of the box.

"You're alright, my sweet," she murmured, placing a gentle hand on Sibella's cheek. The blonde wrapped her fingers around Phoebe's and turned her head slightly to press a kiss to the brunette's palm, through the white satin of her glove.

"I love you," Sibella whispered earnestly.

"And I love you. Focus on that, don't let them ruin your evening. You've been looking forward to this for far too long to have it spoiled."

Sibella nodded, and Phoebe saw her begin to piece her facade back together. Her posture returned to normal and she brought Phobe's hand away from her face, though she continued to hold onto it. In a moment, the blonde had collected herself, and the two women took their seats.

When the lights had gone down and the theatre was dark, Phoebe reached over and laced her fingers with Sibella's. The curtain came up and the blonde leaned forward slightly, her excitement returning. Come the interval, Phoebe noted that the blonde's smile was just as bright as it was before, and though she opted to stay in the box, she gushed over the first act of the performance, using lots of French terms that Phoebe did not recognise. But the brunette was perfectly happy to listen, even if she did not know what a pas de chat was, for she was glad to see her lover smiling once more.