Chapter 2
I stood up, adjusted the hem of my white suit jacket, and headed toward the studio in my heels.
Every step felt like I was carrying the weight of the past ten years.
It was heavy with memories, but filled with anticipation.
I pulled open the heavy studio doors.
There Freddie was, sitting in the guest seat not far away—the guy I'd been chasing for ten years, the one I'd pictured in my mind a thousand times.
He was chatting with the director, his features just as defined and handsome as I remembered.
He must've heard the door, because he looked over.
We locked eyes.
Ten years of memories were all squeezed into a single silent stare.
His gaze was calm, almost indifferent, with a touch of polite curiosity, as if he were sizing up someone he'd never met before.
My heart sank.
The director immediately came over with a smile. "Come on, Mr. Houghton, let me introduce you to our host, Arabella. Arabella, this is Freddie."
I forced down the surge of emotions, put on a professional smile, and extended my hand to him. "Nice to meet you, Mr. Houghton."
His gaze lingered on my face for two seconds, and then he reached out and gave my hand a gentle shake.
His fingertips were cold to the touch.
"Nice to meet you." His voice was deeper and more magnetic than I remembered, but there was a cool distance to it now.
We exchanged polite greetings, just like strangers at a business meeting.
Then we took our seats.
The interview began.
I slipped right into host mode, posing one carefully prepared question after another.
I asked, "Mr. Houghton, I heard your company started with just 150 thousand dollars in seed funding. How did you manage to turn it into an industry unicorn in just five years?"
"What do you see as the biggest challenges and opportunities for the future of AI?"
My questions were professional, sharp, and hit the mark every time.
His answers were equally brilliant—logical, concise, and packed with visionary insight.
This interview was as close to perfect as it gets.
On camera, we were totally in sync, and the chemistry between us was electric.
But I knew it was just a professional spark and had nothing to do with feelings.
Freddie's eyes stayed fixed on the camera behind me, steady and unruffled.
There was not even a flicker of emotion for me, the so-called old friend he hadn't seen in a decade.
Maybe he really didn't remember me anymore.
Or maybe, to him, the eighteen-year-old Arabella was nothing more than a blip in his extraordinary life.
I felt my heart turn to ice, bit by bit.
At the end of the interview, I checked the teleprompter and asked the last official question. "A lot of young people see you as their idol.
"For those who are struggling to start their own business, what advice would you give?"
Freddie paused for a few seconds.
Then he answered, "Keep doing what you believe is right. Even if no one gets it and even if you have to take the long way around, as long as you're sure it's right, just keep going."
That line stabbed right through me.
Was what I had been holding onto all these years really the right thing?
When the interview wrapped up, the director shouted, "Cut. That was perfect! This episode is totally going to go viral."
The crew hurried to pack up the equipment.
The tension in the room melted away.
Freddie stood up, and his assistant immediately stepped forward to hand him his suit jacket.
He shook hands with the director, exchanged a few polite words, then turned to leave.
He was about to walk out of the studio, about to walk out of my world.
Almost without thinking, I called out to him. "Freddie."
Not "Mr. Houghton."
He stopped in his tracks and turned around.
The studio lights were harsh, almost blinding. I couldn't read his expression at all.
I drew in a deep breath and started walking toward him, one step at a time.
My heels clacked against the floor, each sound echoing the beat of my heart.
I stood in front of him and looked up.
Ten years had gone by. He was taller now, his shoulders broader, and that cool, distant aura he always had was even more captivating, deepened by time.
"Do you remember me?" Arabella asked, her voice trembling.
He looked at me for a long time, long enough that I started to think he'd say he didn't remember me.
But then, suddenly, he quietly spoke my name. "Arabella."
My eyes sparkled instantly.
Something warm and bright flickered to life in my chest.
He remembered.
He really remembered me.
My head was spinning with happiness—pure joy washed over me.
I smiled, my eyes growing misty at the corners.
"I still remember our promise from high school," I blurted, barely able to contain myself.
I sounded just like a kid, desperate for reassurance. "That 'meet you at pinnacle' promise."