Chapter 3
Three days later.
Charles asked Julia out to dinner at their favorite restaurant.
He picked their usual spot by the window.
When Julia arrived, he was already there.
Two glasses of red wine and a bouquet of white roses sat on the table.
Her eyes lit up.
"What's the occasion?" she asked.
"Nothing special," Charles said, pulling out her chair. "I just wanted to have dinner with you."
Julia sat down, took the white roses, and leaned in to smell them.
"They smell so nice. You're in a pretty good mood today, huh?" she said.
"Yeah, not bad," Charles replied.
The waiter set down the appetizers.
They picked at their food, making small talk here and there.
It felt like just another ordinary dinner, like countless others they had shared over the past eight years.
Julia was cutting her steak when she suddenly looked up.
"By the way, is the IPO date set yet?" she asked.
"It's set," Charles replied, setting down his wine glass. "Next month, the eighteenth. That's when we ring the bell."
"Really?" Julia's eyes sparkled, her voice rising with excitement. "That's amazing! Congratulations!"
She reached across the table and took his hand.
Her fingers were cool to the touch, but her palm radiated warmth.
"All those years you poured into this, and now you finally—" Julia began, her voice trailing off.
"Julia," Charles interrupted her.
He spoke so calmly.
So calmly that Julia's smile stiffened at the corners of her mouth.
"What's wrong?" Julia asked.
Charles pulled a white envelope from his suit pocket, placed it on the table, and slid it across to her.
The envelope was unsealed, its flap open.
Julia stared at the envelope, her hand frozen, not moving to take it.
"What's this?" Julia asked.
"Go ahead, open it," Charles said.
She set down her fork, wiped her hands, and picked up the envelope.
Inside, she found a thick stack of printed pages.
The first page was titled: "Quitclaim Deed and Conditional Gift Revocation."
Next up was the second page: "Authorized User Deactivation Notice."
And the third page was a photo.
Paradise Isles.
Sunset.
She was leaning against Andrew's shoulder.
Julia's hands started to tremble.
The papers made a faint, gritty sound between her fingers, like sand slipping through her grasp.
She looked up at Charles.
His expression was empty.
It wasn't the kind of calm you fake for appearances.
This time, there was truly nothing left inside him.
It was like he was looking at a stranger.
"Charles" Julia whispered.
"Just look them over," Charles said, taking a sip of his wine. "The house transfer is already arranged, so I just need your signature. The supplementary card will be canceled at the end of the month."
"Please, let me explain," Julia pleaded.
"No need," Charles cut her off.
He set his wine glass down, his voice flat, without a hint of warmth.
"I checked three years' worth of records. Flights, hotels, spending, it all matches up," he said.
Julia's face went from pale, to a sickly green, then finally flushed with embarrassment.
Her lips moved, as if she wanted to say something, but she had no idea where to start.
"Then why didn't you say something sooner?" Julia asked, her voice hoarse and shaky.
Charles lifted his eyes and looked at her.
He almost let out a bitter laugh at that question.
"You really think that's for me to answer?" he said.
Julia bit down on her lower lip.
Soft music drifted through the restaurant, the hum of conversation and the flicker of candlelight filling the air.
Everything felt so elegant.
But at their table, the air was so cold it could freeze.
"It's not what you think," Julia said, setting the papers down, her voice barely a whisper. "It's not like that between us. We were just—"
"Julia Stone," Charles said.
He said her full name out loud.
He hadn't done that in eight years.
"That's you in another man's arms, and your best friend wrote, 'After eight years, she finally found the right person.'"
Charles spoke, enunciating every word, his tone cold and deliberate.
"Tell me, which part of that do you want to explain?" he said.
Her eyes reddened.
Tears gathered in her eyes, but she refused to let them fall.
"I know I messed up But Charles, I really do care about you. All these eight years—" Julia said, her voice trembling.
"Eight years?" Charles echoed.
He laughed.
That laugh stopped Julia cold, her words dying in her throat.
But it wasn't bitter, nor was it cold.
It was the kind of smile you get when you finally let go.
Like a heavy burden he had carried for eight years was finally gone.
Charles said, "Over eight years, I proposed to you four times. Every single time, you had some reason to say no."
"I thought you just wanted to wait for the perfect wedding.
"I busted my ass, thinking if I just made a little more money, you'd finally say yes.
"But you already knew what you wanted.
"It was never about timing.
"It was about the person."
Julia's tears finally began to stream down her cheeks.
She cried without a sound.
One by one, they dropped onto the tablecloth.
"Charles I'm sorry," Julia whispered, her voice barely audible.
Charles stood up.
Without another word, he pulled a few bills from his wallet and laid them on the table.
"Jack will get in touch with you about the house transfer," he said.
"Wait," Julia suddenly grabbed his wrist. "Can't you just hear me out?"
"There's nothing left to say," Charles replied.
Charles looked down at her hand.
On her wrist was the bracelet he had given her three years ago.
He uncurled her fingers from his wrist, one by one.
So gentle.
So slow.
Like he was letting go of something that was never really his.
"Goodbye, Ms. Stone," he said.
He turned and walked away.
His shoes tapped against the marble floor, each step even and unhurried, without a hint of hesitation.
Julia sat there, watching his figure disappear through the restaurant doors.
Tears blurred her vision.
She flipped the photo over.
On the back, there was a line of writing.
It was Charles's handwriting.
"Thanks for sticking by me through the toughest times. But from today on, I'm not waiting anymore."