Celine’s lips pursed together before forcing a smile. “Who says it’s not?” she asked before briefly turning her gaze away. When she looked at Mira again her expression brightened. “Besides,” she said. “Isn’t that what divorces are for?”

Mira laughed and shook her head. This was the Celine she knew. “You’re right,” Mira said, softly smiling. “Sleep well, Celine.” She closed the door, but their conversation felt unfinished. She thought about opening it again and asking Celine to clarify her answer, but didn’t, hearing the sound of laughter from afar. It was the light, airy laughter of a child, and she whipped around to see to whom it belonged. The hallway was empty. No child anywhere. She could have been in one of these rooms, but to Mira’s knowledge all the guests Celine had invited were adults. Celine’s request on her invitations had read Adults Only, printed in a glittery script font. Whose child was it? If no children were here, where was the laughing coming from?

The laugh came again. Unmistakable this time, a playful giggle calling to her, asking for her to take part.

“Okay, where are you?” she answered, and waited. “Is this a game? I don’t know the rules. Can you come out and tell me?”

The laugh grew softer, fading, and Mira continued following the sound, curiosity having gotten the best of her over the possibility of a child hiding alone in the house somewhere, especially at this hour. She’d regret not checking if later she learned this turned out to be the case. She snuck up to each door along the hallway and listened, expecting to hear some family commotion to let her know her instincts were wrong, but heard nothing.

“I couldn’t have imagined it,” she said, confused. She spun around, played the waiting game as she fixed her attention on the empty hallway. Any second the child would give up and appear, either from one of the rooms or from some darkened corner Mira had missed, but as the minutes passed, no one came.

“Last chance!” Mira gave it one last shot in as upbeat of a tone as she could muster, but the laughter she’d heard had stopped. Deciding she’d done enough and not wanting to linger any longer, she left the house.