Chapter 2
There was a long silence on the other end.
I kept going.
"My private lounge. The jacket I had custom-made for you. You, kneeling in front of him, tying his shoelaces.
"Charlotte, tell me, was that really just for work?"
Charlotte seemed to take a deep breath.
"Leonard, do you always have to see the worst in everything?
"Ethan's never been on a stage this big before. He was so nervous his hands were shaking. Is it really such a big deal if I helped him with his outfit?
"That post? He's just young and messing around. He didn't mean anything by it.
"And my post? I was just giving some encouragement to a newcomer."
"Is encouraging a newcomer really worth taking down our wedding announcement from your pinned post?" I asked.
She went quiet.
I heard the sound of fabric rustling, and then Ethan's voice, lowered.
"Charlotte, it's time to go on stage," Ethan said quietly.
Charlotte's voice turned even colder.
"Leonard, I don't have time to argue with you right now," Charlotte said coldly.
"You're in your thirties, stop getting jealous over nothing like some kid," she continued.
"We'll talk when I get back," she said.
Charlotte hung up, leaving nothing but silence.
I sat alone in the empty restaurant, suddenly feeling like a fool.
I first met Charlotte when I was fifteen.
She was standing outside the school radio room, wearing a faded school uniform and holding a stack of scripts. When she looked up at me, her eyes were shining like a beacon.
That's when it hit me.
Some people were just born to stand in the spotlight.
I spent half my life helping her step into the spotlight.
But what I never saw coming was that, once she was finally standing in the light, the first thing she did was leave me behind in the shadows.
Charlotte came home at one in the morning.
She was holding a gift bag in one hand and a bouquet of white roses in the other.
The edges of the roses were already crumpled, and the wrapping still had a convenience store price tag stuck to it.
She slipped off her shoes and walked over to me.
"Happy anniversary," Charlotte said softly.
I was sitting on the couch in the living room, and I didn't reach for the roses.
She set the flowers down on the coffee table, let out a sigh, and sat down next to me.
"Still mad?" she asked.
I looked at her.
She barely had any makeup on tonight, and there was a hint of exhaustion in her eyes, a touch of red at the corners.
Whenever she looked like this, I couldn't help but go soft.
She never needed to explain herself loudly.
One little frown from her, and I'd instantly feel like I was the one to blame.
Charlotte knew that all too well.
So she reached out and took my arm.
"Leonard, I admit it was my fault today," she said softly.
"I shouldn't have lost track of time, and I shouldn't have made you wait so long," she continued.
"But the whole thing with Ethan, it's really not what you think," she added.
She looked up at me, her eyes so sincere it felt like she was delivering a perfectly polished interview, almost too flawless to be real.
"He's a new host the company just signed, and the station's got high hopes for him. As someone who's been around longer, isn't it normal for me to take him under my wing?" she asked.
"I already asked him to take that post down," she continued.
"I'll restore our wedding announcement to the top of my profile," she said.
"Don't let something so trivial wipe out everything we've been through together, alright?" she asked.
I looked down at her.
"Then have Ethan drop out of the Starlight Gala," I said.
Charlotte froze.
I kept my tone cool.
"This show is a joint project between my media platform and the TV station. I brought in the main sponsor myself, and I handpicked the production team.
"I have every right to replace a newbie who can't cut it.
"Just say the word, and I'll pretend tonight never happened."
For a split second, I saw a flicker of hesitation in Charlotte's eyes.
But she quickly slipped back into her gentle demeanor, as if nothing had happened.
"Okay," she said.
I looked at her.
"Really?" I asked, searching her face for any sign of hesitation.
She just smiled, then leaned in and gave me a quick kiss on the cheek.
"Whatever you say, Mr. Carter," Charlotte replied softly.
"I'll talk to the station tomorrow and make sure Ethan drops out," she promised.
Then she nestled into my arms, as if nothing had happened.
"Don't be mad," she murmured, her voice gentle.
I caught a whiff of her perfume.
It wasn't her usual white coffee scent, something softer, more familiar.
This was different: younger, bolder, a woody fragrance that stood out.
I recognized that exact scent from one of Ethan's interview videos.
My heart turned to ice in that instant.
But I kept quiet.
Everyone gives themselves one last chance.
And gives the other person one, too.