Chapter 2
Seven years ago, Jonathan stood out in our department.
He came from a truly scholarly family.
They weren't extremely wealthy, but he carried himself with a quiet, refined air, clean and composed.
When he lifted a camera, it was like he lit up.
That was what drew me to him, that cool focus.
Back then, my dad, Robert Summers, ran a small factory. We weren't rich, but I never lacked anything.
I chased after Jonathan so openly that everyone in the department knew.
He turned me down just as directly.
"Emily, don't waste your time on me."
I was relentless; the whole school knew I was after him, and he still wouldn't budge.
Then an award that should have been his went to someone else.
I dug through every source I could find, gathered information on bigger, more competitive film festivals, and shoved it all at him.
"If this one doesn't work, there's always the next. Jonathan, your work is that good. True talent doesn't stay hidden for long."
He looked at my messy hair and stubborn expression, sighed, and gently ruffled my hair.
"Are you silly or what?"
That one line kept me happy for a week.
Later, on an ordinary evening, I was trailing after him again, talking nonstop.
He suddenly stopped, turned around, and took my hand.
"You're so noisy."
But his ears had turned red.
I thought my warmth had finally melted his ice.
After we got together, I realized it wasn't that simple.
There was always a wall between his world and mine.
My intensity sometimes felt out of place in his quiet, self-contained world.
Even my roommates tried to warn me.
"Stories always say a merchant's daughter can't marry into a scholarly family."
I didn't believe it back then. "I just want him."
Then my dad got into gambling, borrowed from loan sharks, and disappeared.
The debt collectors came to our house. They trapped me and my mom, Laura Summers, inside and took a lot of humiliating photos.
They said a daughter pays for her father's debts. That's only fair.
My world fell apart.
I couldn't let Jonathan find out.
I asked him to meet me at the place where we first held hands.
"Jonathan, let's break up."
"Why?"
"I'm bored. Chasing you was exciting, but once I got you, it turned out to be nothing special."
He stared at me for a long time, like he didn't recognize me at all.
"Fine."
Clean and simple.
I figured he must have felt relieved, finally free of me.
The next day, I tore up my leave-of-absence application, snapped my phone card, and left the city with my mom like we were running away.
I threw myself into a windowless editing room, working nonstop, earning money as fast as I could to pay off interest that would never end.
Seven years.
Long enough for someone in the spotlight to shine even brighter.
Long enough for someone underground to lose all their light.
He says he doesn't remember.
Maybe that's for the best.
*****
The banquet was winding down.
I slipped out through the fire exit, hoping to avoid the crowd.
But when I pushed the door open, Jonathan was there, leaning against the wall, smoking.
He saw me, flicked the cigarette away, and called out, "Emily."
I didn't stop.
He crossed the distance in a few steps and grabbed my arm. "Why are you running?"
"I'm not," I said, keeping my head down, not daring to look at him.
"Back then it was the same," he said. "You decided to chase me, then you decided to run. Emily, what do you think I am?"
Seven years had stripped away the last of his boyishness. He felt more controlled, more composed.
My throat tightened.
I wanted to say I was sorry.
That I hadn't meant it back then.
That I had thought about him every single day these past seven years.
But I couldn't say any of it. "Jonathan, let's just leave the past in the past."
"We can't." He held onto my wrist, not letting go. "Tell me the truth. What happened to your family?"
"Jonathan?"
Olivia Hart's voice cut in.
She wore a tailored cashmere dress under a white coat and held his jacket in her hand.
"Eleanor asked me to come get you."
She walked over and naturally took her place beside him, then looked at me. "And this is?"
"A classmate," Jonathan said, letting go of my hand.
Olivia smiled at me, then slipped her arm through his, her voice light and sweet.
"We're getting engaged next month. You should come."
Engaged?
I froze, forgetting to respond.
Jonathan glanced at her, his brow tightening, a flicker of irritation crossing his face.
He spoke coolly. "Ms. Summers is busy. It's fine if she doesn't come."
I looked at them.
An engaged couple.
Of course.
The way he took his jacket from her was so familiar, like he had done it countless times before.
A quiet bitterness spread through me.
I forced a smile.
"Sorry, bad timing. I'll be visiting my husband's hometown next month."
His head snapped up.
"You're married?" His voice tightened.
"Yes. It's been a few years. It was a quick marriage, and I never got around to inviting anyone to the wedding."
Jonathan didn't speak. He just looked at me.
His gaze was deep, as if something inside had shattered.
He said nothing more, turned, and left with Olivia.