Drake choked up, standing in place utterly helpless. He stood there without any means of fighting back, tears' warmth and bitterness completely shattering all defenses. He remained numb, frozen, as the surging turmoil within him devoured him like a fierce beast.
His confusion, his loss, his pain, his struggles, his perplexity, his loneliness... At this moment, these emotions surged relentlessly. The formidable power of memories dragged him into an abyss without end.
If possible, he didn't want to break up. He hated it; he still loved her deeply. He didn't want to give up, he still dreamed of a happy life together. He still believed they could overcome the distance between them. But love wasn't a cure-all. They were both too young, too impulsive, too self-centered. Breaking up, at the time, was the best decision for both of them. Perhaps, with the passage of time, they would mature, grow, become more rational, and things might change... but...
When Drake saw happiness in Renly's eyes turn to bewilderment, when he saw the tenderness on Renly's face become a mask, when he saw the vividness at the corner of Renly's mouth lose its liveliness... that pain and loss surged like a tidal wave, leaving him unable to breathe.
Suddenly, he couldn't distinguish anymore, whether the person before him was Renly or Jacob, or even whether the story's character was Jacob or himself. Time seemed to return to those moments embedded in memories, real and vivid.
"Ding ling ling, ding ling ling," the telephone in the studio rang. Jacob turned his head, his gaze falling on the drawings in front of him. His movements seemed slow, his reactions sluggish, hesitating whether or not to stand up and answer the call. Then, Sam hurried down the stairs, the sound of her descent causing Jacob to turn his head.
Sam was wearing just one of Jacob's shirts. The oversized shirt concealed the graceful curves of her upper body, revealing the enticing contour of her long legs. The lengthy sleeves completely covered her palms, somewhat comical yet oozing sensuality.
Sam gave Jacob a smile, gesturing for him to stay seated, then quickly picked up the phone. "Jacob Helm. This is Samantha." Sam sat down, deftly saying, "Hi, how are you? No. No later than three weeks.... Ok, alright. Just let me know...."
Jacob shifted his attention back, attempting to focus on his design. However, the pencil's trail seemed to lose control. He unconsciously doodled randomly in the blank space beside the design, even the pencil lines weren't solid, just a heap of abstract lines, like a tangled ball of yarn.
He knew he had to concentrate, but his attention couldn't be focused. He unconsciously lifted his head to look at Sam on his right, answering the phone. Yet his gaze kept wandering, unable to find a focal point. Even the lines of his shoulder seemed faintly tense. He lifted his left hand to touch his brow, but quickly let it down. He fumbled on the paper for a moment, then put it aside...
"Ok, bye...."
Sam hung up the phone. Jacob shrugged, taking the initiative to ask, "Did they say they could do it in three weeks?" His tone even carried a hint of impatience, as if he couldn't wait to join in on the conversation.
"Yes." Sam saw the handsome profile of Jacob and noticed his movements. Jacob couldn't quiet down; his attention was always focused on her every move. Wasn't this a good thing? It meant he cared for her. A smile tugged at the corners of Sam's lips. She had to bite her lower lip to prevent the smile from being too triumphant, revealing her true emotions.
Jacob noticed Sam's light lip-biting gesture and couldn't help but hesitate. It was Anna's favorite gesture. His muscles tensed, and even his back seemed to convey his tension.
Sam walked up, her hands touching Jacob's cheeks, studying the man before her with intensity. Unable to resist, she leaned down and placed a kiss on his lips, then pressed her forehead against his, their noses brushing, happiness brimming in her eyes. "Well, they always do."
Then Sam crouched down, changing her perspective from looking up at Jacob to looking down at him. She gazed deeply into the light in Jacob's eyes, lifted her fingers, and gently smoothed the slight crease between his brows. Her fingertip lightly touched the corner of his mouth, as if outlining the way it would lift.
Jacob broke into a smile, a helpless one. "I know." To Sam, it was an indulgent expression. She wrinkled her nose playfully and smiled fully from the depths of her eyes, softly saying, "I still have some chores to do. You should get back to work." Her words carried a gentle reproach yet held an ineffable sweetness and intimacy. With that, she stood up, gracefully swaying as she went back upstairs.
Jacob remained seated, maintaining the same posture, staring blankly. He lifted his head, casting a glance at Sam. Sam seemed to catch his gaze, smiling back at him. He managed a reluctant twitch of his lips, then turned somewhat awkwardly, attempting to resume his work. However, he stared at the design in front of him, lost in thought. His mind seemed to blank out.
No sadness, no surprise, no regret, not even a sense of loss. There was no emotion, just a sense of confusion that outlined a profound sense of desolation in the sparse lines. It was a heart-wrenching ache.
John Guleserian lifted his head from behind the camera, casting a glance at Drake standing nearby. As the photographer, he had to follow the director's instructions and not act independently. However, this scene had already been shot, yet Drake still hadn't reacted at all. The entire set was waiting for Drake's instructions. What should they do now?
Looking left and right, the crew was only a few people. John could only muster his courage, leaving the camera and coming to Drake's side. He patted Drake's shoulder and saw Drake suddenly turn his head. His eyes were brimming with misty tears, the glint of sorrow shining within them, a struggling pain so clear.
John couldn't help but hesitate, suppressing his astonishment. "Drake, the scene is finished."
Drake paused for a second, then came back to his senses. "Cut!" His voice was almost weightless, carrying a choking desolation and confusion that gripped his throat. Yet, the filming of this scene was indeed finished. However, the deep-seated shock in his heart was still immersed in memories, unable to break free.
It was only at this moment that Drake truly understood Renly's intention in his performance.
In Jacob's eyes, he still believed he was with Anna. He still thought the warmth at home came from Anna. He still believed he was leading a happy life with Anna. So when reality shattered the illusion, Jacob's panic and loss were so evident, almost impossible to conceal.
Anna was no longer in Los Angeles; now it was Sam by his side, yet he had no clue how all of this had come to be. How absurd, how ridiculous, yet it had truly happened.
What was even more cruel was that Jacob suddenly realized he and Anna had broken up completely. He wanted to salvage things, but he had no idea where to start. The feeling of helplessness brought a sense of bewildered loss, shattering all emotions, leaving only emptiness. He was like a soulless corpse, sitting motionlessly.
So vivid, so delicate, so tumultuous.
Drake could hardly conceal his emotions, turning around, completely breaking down. If he had made different decisions in the past, would the outcome be different? If he had chosen to go to London, would things be different? If he had been willing to open his heart and communicate, would the aftermath change? If...
Countless "ifs" overwhelmed him, the pain almost voiceless. He took a deep breath, then another, exhaling the heavy air from his chest, wiping the embarrassment from his cheek. Finally, he managed to compose himself.
The scene just now had stirred memories from many years ago. But in reality, he knew the outcome. He and her had broken up, reasons too numerous to generalize. Love was indeed so complex. Yet precisely because he knew the result, this sense of lamentation surged even more fiercely.
They could never go back.
Ever since he returned from London, the outcome had been predetermined; all subsequent efforts were futile. However, if time could be rewound, he would still make the same decision—to return to London, marry her, and give his all to try and salvage things, even if he had to risk his well-being like a moth to a flame. Even if he ended up scarred and battered, it would be worth it.
She was his only true love in his lifetime. Even though they had parted ways, this fact remained unchanged: in his remaining days, he would never love another person like he had loved her.
Taking another deep breath, his mind was still far from completely calmed, but at least he was no longer disheveled. Turning around, Drake saw Renly and Jennifer standing a couple of steps away behind him, and even Felicity had come over, standing about three steps away on the side. This startled Drake. "What's going on?"
The collective gaze made Drake uneasy. His most private emotions were laid bare like this, a feeling of being stripped of his secrets even more embarrassing than being physically naked. Drake had to cough a few times to hide his embarrassment. The silent air seemed to carry hints of concern, awkwardness, and naivety. Everyone was at a loss about how to deal with this situation.
Then Renly shrugged, taking the initiative to speak. "We just wanted to inquire about how the scene just now went. Do we need to change the way we performed, adjust the pacing? After all, you're the director. We need definite answers; otherwise, we can't continue filming, right?"
Completely professional, respecting Drake's authority. This caught Drake off guard, and he chuckled slightly, nodding. "Yes. That's right."