Faro Faros adjusted his white suit jacket and red tie one final time as he glanced at the grand ballroom before him. The glittering event hosted by Clown Inc., a billion-dollar entertainment empire led by the enigmatic and wildly eccentric The Clown, was in full swing. The laughter of guests mingled with the clinking of champagne glasses and the lively melody of the orchestra.
Beside him, Rita Faros, dressed in an elegant white blouse and a fitted skirt adorned with a bold belt, radiated sophistication. Her confident posture and charming demeanor turned heads as she entered the ballroom on Faro’s arm.
Trailing slightly behind them, Ronda Riy—wearing a modest yet vibrant blue dress—fidgeted nervously. Her usual cheerful spirit was dimmed by a cloud of unease. She hadn’t been thrilled when Faro announced he’d invited Rita to this exclusive ball. The idea of sharing Faro’s attention with her aunt felt like a knife twisting in her heart.
As they approached the center of the room, The Clown himself made a grand entrance. His garish outfit of yellow, green, and blue with oversized shoes and a top hat immediately drew everyone’s attention. His loud laughter filled the room as he greeted his guests with a theatrical bow.
“Ah, Faro Faros! And the lovely ladies accompanying you tonight,” The Clown greeted with exaggerated charm, his painted smile stretching unnaturally. “You’re always a star at my events.”
Rita flashed one of her dazzling smiles. “The pleasure is all ours, Mr. Clown. Your reputation for unforgettable parties is well-earned.”
Faro chuckled, glancing at Rita with admiration. “Couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Ronda, however, stayed quiet, her eyes darting between Faro and Rita. Every shared laugh, every knowing glance between them, deepened the knot of jealousy in her chest.
As the evening wore on, Rita seamlessly mingled with the crowd, drawing attention with her wit and elegance. Faro stayed close, clearly enjoying her company. Meanwhile, Ronda found herself on the sidelines, clutching a glass of sparkling water and watching the two with growing irritation.
Finally, she couldn’t take it anymore. She pulled Faro aside, her voice low but edged with frustration. “Why did you even bring me here if you were just going to spend the whole night with Rita?”
Faro looked genuinely taken aback. “Ronda, I brought you because I wanted you to experience something special. And Rita… well, she’s family. She knows how to handle events like this.”
“Family?” Ronda scoffed, her voice rising slightly. “She’s not just acting like family, Faro. She’s acting like—” She stopped herself, glancing at the crowd to make sure they weren’t drawing attention.
Faro frowned, his usual lighthearted demeanor replaced by confusion. “Ronda, this isn’t like you. What’s really going on?”
Ronda hesitated, her emotions warring within her. “I just… I don’t want to feel like the third wheel, Faro. Especially not with her.”
Faro’s expression softened. He placed a hand on her shoulder. “You’re not a third wheel, Ronda. You’re important to me, and I want you to enjoy tonight. Don’t let anything—or anyone—make you feel otherwise.”
Before Ronda could respond, Rita approached them, her smile as dazzling as ever. “Faro, they’re about to start the dance. Care to join me?”
Ronda stiffened, her grip tightening on her glass. Faro glanced between the two women, clearly caught in an awkward position.
After a moment, he nodded to Rita but turned to Ronda first. “I’ll be back soon, Ronda. Promise.”
As Faro and Rita moved to the dance floor, Ronda’s heart sank. She watched as they danced with a chemistry that seemed effortless. The Clown, observing from across the room, chuckled quietly to himself, his painted eyes glinting with mischief.
For Ronda, the night had become a bitter reminder of how easily Rita could overshadow her, even at an event meant to be a celebration.
The Clown’s Unexpected Invitation
Ronda stood by the edge of the ballroom, swirling her untouched glass of sparkling water. Her eyes fixated on Faro and Rita as they moved gracefully across the dance floor. Rita’s laughter carried over the music, sharp and clear, cutting through Ronda’s fragile confidence like shards of glass.
As her chest tightened, she felt a shadow loom beside her. A deep, theatrical voice broke through her thoughts.
“Why, my dear, such a frown has no place at my gala!”
Ronda turned her head sharply, startled. It was The Clown, standing uncomfortably close, his painted smile stretching wider than ever. Up close, his brightly painted face and piercing eyes were almost unnerving, but his jovial tone carried a surprising warmth.
“I wasn’t frowning,” Ronda mumbled, her cheeks flushing.
“Oh, but you were!” The Clown exclaimed, placing a hand dramatically over his heart. “A frown at one of my parties is the greatest tragedy of all. We simply must do something about it.”
Before Ronda could protest, The Clown extended a gloved hand and bowed deeply, his oversized hat nearly tipping off his head.
“May I have this dance?”
Ronda blinked, unsure if he was serious. “I-I don’t think—”
“Ah, ah, ah!” The Clown interrupted, wagging a finger with exaggerated flair. “No refusals allowed. I am The Clown, darling! I do not take no for an answer—not when it comes to spreading joy!”
A few guests nearby had stopped to watch, amused by The Clown’s antics. Feeling the pressure of their curious gazes, Ronda reluctantly placed her hand in his.
“Splendid!” The Clown declared, leading her to the dance floor with a dramatic flourish.
The orchestra transitioned into a lively waltz as The Clown took the lead, twirling Ronda with surprising grace. His enormous shoes made soft squeaks against the polished floor, and the colorful stripes of his socks peeked out with every step, making the scene both absurd and oddly charming.
“You’re quite light on your feet,” Ronda said, her lips curving into a small smile despite herself.
“And you, my dear, are a natural dancer,” The Clown replied, his painted grin never faltering. “Now tell me, why does such a lovely lady wear such a heavy heart tonight?”
Ronda hesitated, unsure whether to open up to this strange yet magnetic man. “It’s nothing, really. Just… feeling out of place, I guess.”
The Clown hummed thoughtfully, spinning her once before dipping her low. “Out of place? Impossible! You shine brighter than half the jewels in this room. You simply need someone to help you see it.”
As they danced, Ronda couldn’t help but laugh at his over-the-top antics. He wiggled his eyebrows comically, pretended to stumble dramatically, and even mimed juggling invisible balls as they moved across the floor. Slowly but surely, her earlier insecurities began to melt away.
From across the room, Faro caught sight of them. He paused mid-conversation with Rita, his brows furrowing. “Is Ronda… dancing with The Clown?”
Rita smirked, leaning slightly toward him. “Looks like someone finally gave her the attention she was craving.”
Faro’s frown deepened, a pang of guilt twisting in his chest.
Back on the dance floor, The Clown spun Ronda one last time before stopping in the center of the room. The crowd burst into applause, clearly entertained by their performance. Ronda, breathless but grinning, curtsied awkwardly.
“Thank you, my dear,” The Clown said, bowing theatrically. “For one night, you have made this old joker feel like the king of the ball.”
Ronda chuckled. “I think you’re already the king of the ball.”
As The Clown escorted her back to the edge of the room, he leaned in close and whispered, “Never let anyone make you feel like you don’t belong. You’re far too extraordinary for that.”
Ronda blinked, surprised by the sincerity in his voice. Before she could respond, he tipped his hat and disappeared into the crowd, leaving her standing alone but feeling strangely uplifted.
Moments later, Faro approached her, his expression a mix of curiosity and concern. “Ronda, that was… unexpected.”
She shrugged, a mischievous glint in her eye. “What can I say? The Clown knows how to make a girl feel special.”
Faro hesitated, rubbing the back of his neck. “Look, about earlier… I didn’t mean to make you feel left out. I shouldn’t have—”
“It’s okay, Faro,” Ronda interrupted, her tone lighter now. “I’m fine. Really.”
For the first time that evening, she meant it.
