Cereus
The ballroom buzzed with a frenetic energy, a symphony of clinking champagne glasses, hushed conversations, and the rhythmic thrumming of the live band. I, Cereus Lilian, stood amidst the throng, a calm island in a sea of excited chatter. My emerald green gown shimmered under the chandeliers' soft glow, a stark contrast to the nervous flutter in my stomach.
Tonight was the Hope Foundation Gala, the annual charity event that was Wusan Conglomerate's crown jewel. As Collin Reeves' newly appointed personal assistant, the responsibility of ensuring its smooth operation fell squarely on my shoulders. Six years. It felt like a lifetime and a blink of an eye all at once. Six years since the phone call, since Collin left me without an explanation, vanishing from everywhere, as if he didn't exist, the shattering silence that followed, the suffocating grief that stole my breath.
And yet, here I was, back in his orbit, a ghost from a past life haunting the sterile halls of Wusan Conglomerate. Every interaction, every stolen glance, was a carefully choreographed dance, a tango of unspoken emotions and buried memories.
He seemed…different. Gone was the warmth in his eyes, replaced by a steely resolve. The easy smile that used to grace his lips was a distant memory, replaced by a stoic mask of indifference. A part of me ached for the boy I once knew, but a larger part recoiled from the man he'd become.
The evening progressed in a blur of introductions, last-minute requests, and ensuring the flow of champagne remained uninterrupted. My gaze kept flitting towards Collin, who stood stiffly by the entrance, a solitary figure amidst the throng. Each time our eyes met, a jolt of electricity ran through me, a spark of something I couldn't quite define.
Just as I was about to check on a caterer who seemed to be having trouble with a particularly elaborate hors d'oeuvres display, a voice cut through the cacophony.
"Cereus," Collin's voice was a low rumble, sending shivers down my spine. "Is there a moment we can talk?"
The world seemed to tilt on its axis. My heart hammered against my ribs, a frantic drum solo in the sudden silence. A thousand possibilities bloomed in my mind, each one more unsettling than the last. Was he going to explain? To apologize for the gaping wound he left in my heart? Or was this something purely business-related, a way to keep me firmly in my place as his assistant?
Before I could formulate a response, my phone buzzed insistently in my clutch. A glance at the screen revealed Matthew's name, my current boyfriend. Relief washed over me, a lifeline thrown in the churning sea of emotions.
"Excuse me, Mr. Reeves," I managed, my voice betraying a slight tremor. "It's an important call."
He nodded curtly, a flicker of something – disappointment? – crossing his features before turning away. Stepping away from the throng, I answered the call.
"Hey, beautiful," Matthew's voice, warm and familiar, was a balm to my nerves. "How's the night going?"
"Busy, but successful so far," I replied, forcing a smile into my voice.
"That's great, babe. I should be there in about twenty minutes. Can you wait, or do you need me to come sooner?"
The thought of Matthew arriving, of his strong arms enveloping me, was strangely comforting. "No, twenty minutes is perfect. See you then."
We hung up, and as I slipped my phone back into my clutch, a strange sense of clarity washed over me. Matthew, kind, reliable, everything Collin wasn't anymore. He had chosen his path, and so had I.
Returning to Collin, I squared my shoulders, the emerald green gown suddenly feeling like a suit of armor. "Mr. Reeves," I began, my voice firm. "The call was from my boyfriend. Unless this is something work-related-"
"No," he interrupted, his voice surprisingly rough. "It can wait."
He turned and walked away, his retreating figure etched with a loneliness that mirrored my own. A strange pang of… something… flickered in my chest. But I pushed it down. He was the one who walked away, who left me to pick up the pieces of a shattered heart. I was the bigger person here, the one who had moved on. Then, why does he look so hurt?
Why did his eyes make that look? I am the good person here, offered to forget the past, the past where he left me, and I was there suffering for the longest time possible. I still have nightmares because of him. He doesn't get to look like he was the victim.
The rest of the evening flew by in a flurry of activity. The event ended with a resounding success, a fact I took immense satisfaction in. As the last guests departed, I stood amidst the remnants of the night – empty champagne flutes, discarded hors d'oeuvres platters, and a faint echo of laughter in the air.
Exhaustion settled upon me like a heavy cloak, but a strange sense of accomplishment warmed me from within.
The weight of the evening's responsibility finally lifted, leaving me drained and with a dull ache in my lower back. I was just about to call for a car when I spotted Matthew weaving his way through the throng of exiting staff. Relief washed over me again, a sweet tide erasing the lingering tension from my encounter with Collin.
His smile was as warm as his greeting. "Hey there, superstar," he said, enveloping me in a hug. "You did an amazing job tonight."
"Thanks," I breathed, burying my face momentarily in his shoulder. The familiar scent of his cologne, a mix of citrus and woodsy musk, anchored me in the present, away from the ghosts that haunted the past.
"Let's get out of here," he said, taking my hand and leading me towards the exit. "Borrowed Alex's car since my new one is arriving this weekend. Hope you don't mind the slightly less glamorous ride."
"Not at all," I chuckled, stepping into the cool night air.