YOU ARE MY LIGHT

CHAPTER 17 : BEFORE EVERYTHING CHANGED

Before everything changed, the evening felt ordinary—almost peaceful.

The invitation had never really been about dinner.

And we both knew it.

For a second, my father’s words echoed in my mind.

Don’t close your heart.

Fear stood beside possibility.

I hesitated only a moment.

Then I chose to step forward.

I stepped into the car and fastened my seatbelt quietly.

We drove in silence.

The city lights slid past the window in streaks of gold and white. The hum of the engine filled the space between us, but something else sat there too — something unspoken. Something fragile.

After a while, he broke the silence.

“I’m sorry,” Vincent said, his voice lower than usual. “For asking you to help… and then leaving with someone else.”

There was something unsteady in it.

I looked at him. “It’s okay.”

He glanced at me briefly, as if searching for disappointment or resentment. When he didn’t find either, he focused back on the road.

“She’s my childhood friend,” he added.

I hadn’t asked.

Yet he explained.

Why?

The need to clarify meant more than the explanation itself.

We turned into an amusement park.

I blinked in surprise as the bright entrance lights reflected against the windshield.

“Are we having dinner here?”

He let out a quiet laugh — softer, almost boyish.

“We can eat later. Let’s have some fun first.”

Fun.

It sounded unfamiliar on his tongue.

Like a word he hadn’t used in years.

He stepped out, walked around the car, and opened my door. When he reached for my hand, I didn’t hesitate.

His palm was warm.

Steady.

Comforting.

Colorful lights flickered above us. The air smelled of caramel popcorn and cotton candy. Children ran past us, dragging balloons. Teenagers screamed somewhere in the distance — probably on a roller coaster.

“Which one first?” he asked.

I looked at him.

Under the flashing lights, he didn’t look like the cold, intimidating CEO everyone feared.

He looked… free.

I pointed toward the Ferris wheel.

“That one.”

He nodded and led me forward.

The cabin lifted slowly, metal creaking softly as we rose. The park shrank beneath us — neon lights, spinning rides, moving shadows. The city stretched endlessly beyond.

The wind brushed against my cheeks.

It was quiet up there.

Peaceful.

I realized he wasn’t thinking about work or anyone else. Just this moment. Just me.

For a moment, it felt like the world had paused just for us.

I laughed at something silly — I don’t even remember what.

But I remember the way he looked at me.

Not distracted.

Not guarded.

Present.

When we stepped down, I felt lighter.

“Which one next?” he asked.

I pretended to think carefully, then smiled mischievously.

“The horror house.”

He froze.

Just for a fraction of a second.

Then he nodded. “Alright.”

Inside, darkness swallowed us whole.

The air was cooler. Artificial fog drifted around our ankles. Dim red lights flickered unpredictably. Somewhere ahead, something banged loudly.

I felt his hand tighten around mine.

Stronger than before.

“Don’t tell me,” I teased lightly, leaning closer to him, “the great Mr. CEO is afraid of plastic ghosts.”

He didn’t respond.

But his breathing had changed.

Another sudden shriek echoed through the hallway. A mechanical figure jumped forward from the side.

He flinched.

Not dramatically.

But enough.

Enough for me to notice.

The darkness here wasn’t playful to him.

It pressed against him.

Wrapped around him.

I didn’t know why.

I didn’t know about the shadows he carried.

But I felt it.

So I bumped my shoulder lightly against his.

“I’ve got you,” I whispered teasingly. “I’ll protect Mr. CEO.”

He glanced at me.

Something flickered in his eyes — surprise… and something deeper.

Another loud crash echoed behind us.

His grip tightened instinctively.

I squeezed his hand back, playful but firm.

“Let’s go outside,” I said softly.

He let out a slow breath.

When we stepped outside, he inhaled deeply — like someone who had been holding his breath for too long.

I didn’t tease him this time.

I simply walked to a nearby stall and bought two bottles of water.

I handed him one.

He drank quietly.

“So,” I smiled gently, bringing the teasing back to soften the moment, “Mr. CEO is afraid of scary toys?”

A faint smile appeared.

“Yes,” he said dryly. “The CEO is afraid of scary toys.”

I laughed.

And this time, it wasn’t about the joke.

It was about us.

He looked at me — not embarrassed, not defensive.

Just honest.

“I’m glad I made you laugh,” he said.

I blinked. “What?”

He didn’t repeat it.

But the softness in his eyes explained everything.

He hadn’t brought me there for dinner.

He had brought me there for this.

For my smile.

For the sound of my laughter.

The drive back was quieter.

But not heavy.

Comfortable.

When we arrived, I stepped out of the car.

“Goodnight,” I said softly.

He nodded.

But he didn’t drive away immediately.

He watched me walk inside.

And somehow, I felt it.

That look followed me long after the door closed behind me.

I went inside, but my thoughts refused to settle.

Why had he taken me there?

Was it pity?

Friendship?

Something more?

I caught myself smiling, feeling something I hadn’t allowed in a long time—anticipation, not worry.

* * *

The next morning, I went to work and visited my mother.

“Good morning, Mum.”

She studied me with the quiet intuition only mothers possess.

“You look happy today.”

I tried to suppress my smile. “Do I?”

She tilted her head slightly.

“Mr. Vincent came to see you last night, didn’t he?”

I froze.

“What… how do you know? Another rumor?” I leaned closer.

She laughed softly.

“No. He rushed here with his lab coat still on,” she said gently. “Like he had come straight from the surgery room.”

My heart skipped.

“He said he needed to speak with you. When I told him you went to talk with your father and might have gone home, he didn’t even let me finish. He rushed out.”

She paused.

“He looked worried.”

Worried.

The word echoed inside me.

He thought I might be hurt.

He thought I might be upset.

And he came looking for me.

Not as a CEO.

Not as a doctor.

As Vincent.

My chest tightened.

All at once, something inside me shifted.

Maybe I didn’t want to keep pretending.

Maybe I didn’t want to stay distant anymore.

Before I could overthink it, I stood abruptly.

“Mum, I’ll be right back.”

I didn’t walk.

I rushed.

My heart pounded as I stepped into the hallway.

I was ready.

Ready to speak honestly.

Ready to stop hiding.

I stepped outside—

—and froze.

Dora was walking toward me.

Her heels clicked softly against the polished floor. She wasn’t rushing. She wasn’t hesitant.

She was calm.

Too calm.

Her smile curved slowly, controlled — like someone who already knew something I didn’t.

Our eyes met.

“Good morning,” Dora said gently.

I froze, my pulse quickening. Something about her calmness felt deliberate.

"Good morning," I replied

I forced my feet to move.

Whatever this was, I didn’t have the energy for it.

I tried to walk past her.

But her voice stopped me.

“Oh, Juliet.”

It was light. Casual.

Too casual.

I paused.

Slowly, I turned back.

She smiled — not wide, not cruel. Just composed.

“I actually have something to tell you.”

I said nothing.

She took a small step closer, lowering her voice slightly.

“Since you’re Vincent’s assistant, I thought you should know first.” She tilted her head gently. “Although… I assumed he might have already told you.”

My chest tightened.

I didn't say a word because I had a feeling it wasn't something good.

Her smile deepened.

“We’re getting engaged soon.”

My hands clenched slightly. My mind scrambled. I felt the room tilt.

The world didn’t stop.

The hallway didn’t fall silent.

People were still walking. Nurses were still talking. Monitors were still beeping somewhere in the distance.

But inside me—

Everything went quiet.

And for the first time, I wondered if I had imagined everything.