The downtown charity gala was the last place Michael Hudson thought he would see Lorna Jenkins.
Another soulless evening of meaningless small talk and hollow handshakes was what he had not wanted to go to. However, the board demanded he attend because the Hudson Foundation had promised a sizable donation.
He stood close to the ballroom's edge, his tux crisp, his drink in hand, and his mask securely in place—not physically, but emotionally. The light from the chandelier above was colder than it appeared, and it glowed like a constellation.
Then she emerged like a glitch in reality.
Lorna.
She paused.
She turned to him slowly. She had a composed face, but there was a silent fire behind her eyes that made it impossible to read.
"Michael," she uttered. No tenderness. No warmth. Only his name.
He let go of her arm and remarked, "I didn't know you'd be here."
She answered, "I was invited." "Yes, sometimes I go to events that aren't about you."
He winced. "Just."
There was a silence between them.
She went on, "You've been avoiding me."
"I have."
"Because we kissed?"
He turned his head away. "Because of its significance."
He wasn't pressed by her. He wasn't asked to elaborate. She simply waited while standing there with her arms gently folded.
He let out a sigh. It frightened me. I'm afraid of you.
She blinked, obviously surprised.
He added in a low voice, "I've already been broken once." "I can't do it once more." I doubt that I would get better."
Lorna tightened her jaw. "You believe I would hurt you?"
You wouldn't mean to, in my opinion. However, that does not make it any safer.
One more pause.
"Michael," she said at last, her voice softer. "I'm not Heather."
"I understand."
However, I'm also not your remedy. I cannot be the woman you only turn to when the pain of the past becomes unbearable.
This woman, who had witnessed his darkest moments and remained by his side, caught his attention. who provided more than just medical assistance. She gave hope.
He would also flee from it.
"Really, why are you here?" she inquired.
He let out a defeated sigh. "To make an effort to forget you."
She felt a glimmer of pain in her eyes. At that moment, she turned and walked slowly away, her heels making no sound on the shiny floor.
He didn't follow.
Not just yet.
But long after the gala was over, he couldn't shake the conversation or the way her voice trembled just enough to reveal who she was.
Michael had to confront a question he had been avoiding for too long for the first time:
Was he scared of being vulnerable at last, or was he scared of love?