Kammy’s lively housewarming celebration unfolded with dazzling energy, the kind that seemed to fill every corner of the newly painted rooms with warmth and laughter as friends, neighbors, and long-lost acquaintances drifted in carrying bright gift bags, homemade dishes, and eager stories they were desperate to share, creating a vibrant whirlwind of movement and noise that perfectly matched Kammy’s outgoing personality and her love for hosting unforgettable gatherings, yet the dazzling chaos that thrilled her only deepened the contrast with Lewis Barton’s growing nervousness as he stood near the edge of the room clutching a sweating glass of lemonade, his shoulders tight, his gaze darting between unfamiliar faces and loud bursts of laughter that made him flinch slightly each time, because no matter how hard he tried to mask it, large gatherings still overwhelmed him in a way he wished he could explain but never found the courage to; he admired Kammy’s effortless grace as she floated from group to group with an infectious smile, checking on guests, adjusting the music, handing out slices of her famous cinnamon cake, while he remained rooted near the doorway, forcing polite nods and stiff waves whenever someone greeted him, and though he managed to pull his lips into what he hoped resembled friendly enthusiasm, the smile never reached his eyes, revealing the truth he knew he couldn’t hide—that crowds tightened his chest, made his thoughts scatter, and left him feeling like a small boat caught in a storm of sound; he watched people dance, tease each other playfully, and fill the house with joy, but each passing minute intensified the buzzing in his ears as snippets of conversations swirled around him, too many voices at once, too many sudden movements, too many moments where he felt exposed, and even though Kammy had invited him with genuine affection, telling him he needed a night of fun after so many quiet weeks spent working alone, he found himself silently wishing for the comfort of solitude instead, where he didn’t have to pretend to be comfortable when his heart raced every time someone bumped into him by accident; Kammy noticed his stiffness eventually and made her way toward him, touching his arm gently, her cheerful eyes softening with concern as she asked whether he was enjoying himself, and Lewis nodded too quickly, the kind of nod that betrayed how desperately he wanted the conversation to end before she could see through him, but Kammy had always been perceptive, and though she didn’t push him, she squeezed his shoulder reassuringly before moving on, leaving Lewis simultaneously grateful and guilty, because he hated the idea of dampening her celebration with his anxiety; trying to ground himself, he took slow breaths, counting in his mind while focusing on the patterned carpet because looking at anything else made him dizzy, yet the sounds didn’t fade—they only grew louder as the room filled further with guests Kammy had somehow managed to keep inviting throughout the evening, and soon Lewis found himself cornered by a cheerful coworker of Kammy’s who eagerly launched into a long story about an office prank, laughing loudly at his own jokes while Lewis tried desperately to maintain the appropriate facial expressions, but every fake smile strained the muscles in his cheeks as exhaustion crept in, reminding him that pretending was far more draining than simply being alone; he wondered whether anyone else in the room felt like he did, whether anyone else had to rehearse breathing or mentally calculate escape routes whenever laughter spiked too high or groups gathered too close, yet he doubted it because everyone else seemed so effortlessly immersed in the joy of the moment, dancing in the kitchen, singing along to the music, taking photos in front of Kammy’s new living-room mural, while Lewis stood like a misplaced puzzle piece that didn’t belong in the picture; eventually he excused himself under the pretense of needing fresh air and slipped onto the balcony, closing the sliding door behind him with quiet relief as the muffled sounds of the party became merely a distant hum instead of a crushing wave, and for a few minutes he allowed himself to breathe freely again, leaning on the railing as the breeze cooled the sweat on his neck; from his vantage point he watched the warm glow of lights inside the house and saw Kammy laugh so hard she nearly doubled over, her joy radiating through the windows, and he felt a pang of admiration—and longing—because he wished he could experience nights like this with the same ease, without the invisible weight that pressed on him whenever he stood in a crowded room; despite everything, he didn’t want to leave early and disappoint Kammy, so after gathering his courage, he returned inside, hoping perhaps the rest of the night would feel gentler, but the moment he stepped back into the living room, he sensed the energy had only grown louder, more intense, and though he summoned another polite smile when a guest handed him a cupcake, the strain flickered again at the edges of his expression, revealing the truth that no matter how hard he tried, large gatherings were still mountains he had not yet learned how to climb; yet even as he stood there overwhelmed, something small but significant happened—Kammy glanced his way, offered him a warm, unspoken look of reassurance from across the room, and in that quiet exchange Lewis felt seen, understood, and not judged, which didn’t erase the anxiety swelling in his chest but softened it just enough for him to stay, reminding him that even though the celebration felt like chaos swirling around him, he wasn’t alone in it, and maybe, just maybe, that was enough for tonight.