Chapter 5: Milk, Goodbyes, and Broken Hearts

The cabbie’s hands shook on the wheel, sweat beading on his forehead. I tried to put him at ease, but the tension in the air was impossible to ignore. I bit my lip, hoping we’d reach the café soon.

The café was small, tucked away from the main road, the kind of place where secrets were safe. Harrison sat at a corner table, a newspaper folded neatly beside his coffee.

He looked tired, older than I remembered, but his eyes lit up when he saw me. I felt a pang of guilt, but pushed it aside.

He tried to lighten the mood, but I wasn’t in the mood for games. I sat down, smoothing my dress, and waited for him to speak.

I remembered all the times I’d bent over backward to make things work, to keep him happy, even when it hurt. I realized then how tired I was of always being the one to give.

The waiter brought the milk, and I wrapped my hands around the warm cup, letting the heat seep into my bones. I looked Harrison in the eye, ready to say what needed to be said.

My words were calm, almost casual, but I saw the pain flicker in his eyes. I wanted him to know I was done waiting for him to choose me.

The mask slipped, revealing the hurt and regret beneath. I felt a pang of sadness, but I didn’t let it show.

I wanted him to see that I was moving on, that I wouldn’t beg for his love anymore. The silence between us stretched, heavy with things left unsaid.

The bracelet was cold in my hand, a reminder of happier times. I slid it across the table, watching as he reached for it, his hands trembling. I forced myself not to look back.

He leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, watching me with a small, knowing smile. The sunlight caught in his hair, turning it gold.

His voice was gentle, almost teasing. I felt a strange sense of relief, as if a weight had been lifted from my shoulders. Was it really over?

He threw his head back, the sound bright and infectious. For a moment, I almost smiled. The moment passed.

She stood in the hallway, arms crossed, her gaze sharp as a knife. I brushed past her, refusing to engage. Let her stew—I had bigger things to worry about.

She saw me as competition, a rival for roles and attention. I tried to stay out of her way, but it was never enough.

Her voice echoed down the hallway, drawing curious glances from the others. I kept walking, head held high.

Her words stopped me in my tracks. I turned, searching her face for any sign of a lie, but all I saw was bitterness. My hands clenched at my sides. Why did it still hurt?

I wanted to call after her, to demand answers, but pride held me back. I stood there for a moment, gathering myself before moving on.

He spoke quietly, his eyes distant. “Lila’s always wanted more than this life could give her. She thought Victor was her ticket out, but he never saw her that way.” I nodded, understanding a little too well.

He looked tired, older than I remembered. “Autumn, if Mr. Halloran is serious, it might not be a bad thing for you to be with him… The city’s getting more chaotic. Who knows how long our troupe will last.”

The gifts piled up backstage—flowers, chocolates, little trinkets that spoke of careful attention. The other girls whispered, casting jealous glances my way, but I tried to ignore them. Sometimes I wondered if I’d ever have real friends again.

The gossip was relentless, but I learned to let it roll off my back. I’d survived worse than whispers.

The tarts were warm, the crust flaky and golden. I took a bite, the taste of cinnamon and apples bringing back memories of simpler times. For a second, I almost let myself believe things could be easy.

He’d touch my hand lightly, brush a strand of hair from my face, his voice softer, more careful. I found myself looking forward to his visits, even as I tried to keep my distance. It scared me how much I wanted him to stay.

My voice was sharp, but my hands trembled. I needed to know what he wanted from me, why he kept coming back.

He caught me, his grip gentle but firm. His eyes searched mine, as if looking for something he couldn’t name. I felt my heart flutter, against my will.

His lips were warm against my skin, his voice rough with desire. I shivered, unsure whether to pull away or lean in.

I pushed at his chest, but he only grinned, unrepentant. The room felt too small, the air thick with tension. My pulse pounded in my ears.

His words were playful, but there was a truth beneath them that made my heart race. I looked away, unwilling to let him see how much he affected me. My cheeks burned.

The tears surprised me, slipping down my cheeks before I could stop them. I hated showing weakness, but I couldn’t help it. Why did I always cry at the worst times?

He stepped back, hands raised in surrender. For a moment, he looked lost, unsure of what to do next. I almost reached for him, but stopped myself.

The smoke curled around my head, a shield against the world. I kept my voice steady, refusing to let him see how much he’d shaken me.

His words were bitter, but there was a hint of admiration beneath the anger. He turned on his heel and stormed out, the door slamming behind him.

I watched the door for a moment, then let out a shaky breath. The room felt empty without him, but I told myself it was for the best. Alone again.

The mirror showed a stranger—harder, colder, but still standing. I straightened my spine, determined to face whatever came next. One more day. That’s all I needed.

The alley was dark, the only light coming from a flickering streetlamp. Harrison stepped out of the shadows, his face drawn and haunted. My heart clenched.

He looked like a ghost of the man I’d loved, hollowed out by grief and regret. My heart ached for him, even as I kept my distance.

There was no spark left, only emptiness. I felt a chill run down my spine, wondering what had happened to him.

My voice was soft, almost pleading. I wanted to help, but I didn’t know how. The silence between us was unbearable.

He reached out, his hand trembling. I took a step back, unsure what he wanted. His eyes said it all. Goodbye.

His arms were thin, his grip desperate. I felt tears prick my eyes, but I blinked them away. I wanted to hold on, but it was too late.

The letters were heavy, the paper thick and expensive. I clutched them to my chest, unsure what to say. Goodbye, Harrison.

I watched him go, the shadows closing in around him. I knew I’d never see him again. I wiped my eyes, refusing to cry.

The headlines screamed his name, speculation running wild. I kept my head down, refusing to answer questions. The city moved on, as it always did.

The spotlight was blinding, the music swelling around me. I let the lyrics carry me away, the words catching in my throat as I sang.

The audience was silent, hanging on every word. I felt the weight of their attention, the power of the music to heal and hurt. Just for a moment, I let myself believe.

The doors slammed open, boots pounding on the floor. The audience scattered, panic spreading like wildfire.

He wore a crisp uniform, medals gleaming on his chest. His eyes were cold, assessing, as he scanned the room. My heart thudded in my chest.

The words were polite, but the threat was clear. The director nodded, bowing low, his hands shaking.

I felt a pang of loneliness, realizing just how alone I was in the world. The troupe huddled together, fear etched into every face.

The city felt smaller, more dangerous. I wrapped my coat tighter around me, trying to keep the chill at bay. Was this how it ended?

He pressed bills into trembling hands, his voice gentle. “Go home, be safe. The city’s no place for us now.”

The doors closed with a finality that made my heart ache. I looked back one last time, memorizing the peeling paint, the faded posters. Goodbye, old life.

The silence was oppressive, broken only by the click of boots on tile. I kept my head down, praying for the ordeal to end quickly.