The distance was only a few steps, yet it felt like the difference between heaven and earth.
The reporters' shifting cameras seemed to mock her stupidity—imagine, one day being completely crushed by her own stand-in without any power to retaliate.
Looking at Hannah's overly long hem, Tiffany Lynch tugged at the corner of her mouth, her smiling expression somewhat twisted and stiff, a plan forming in her mind.
A red carpet mishap was absolutely a blow and humiliation for an artist.
Tiffany tugged at her own hem and took steps towards the VIP passageway.
Looking up, in the instant her gaze met the other's, Tiffany felt as if she saw her own current state reflected in those eyes.
A face distorted by jealousy, and a hem stuck on the middle barrier.
Before she could even cry out in alarm, Tiffany tumbled directly onto the red carpet due to inertia. She faced Hannah's direction, yet several vigilant security guards in black uniforms stood in between.
