CHAPTER 9
1058 Words
A few days later, Shannon finally received a message from Flynn. They had agreed to meet, not just for a casual conversation, but for something more deliberate. Shannon had already shared her intention to pitch her comic, and although Flynn hadn’t given her a clear answer, the fact that he was willing to talk was enough to make her heart stir with cautious excitement.
That morning, she moved restlessly around her room, pausing every now and then in front of the mirror. She adjusted her outfit for the thirdtime, as if the right clothes could somehow give her the confidence she still hadn’t found.
“Meeting Flynn today?” Becca mumbled from the couch, half-asleep, her eyes barely open.
“Um… do you think this outfit is too casual?” Shannon asked, her voice barely above a whisper.
Becca stretched like a cat soaking in sunlight, then slowly shook her head. “You’re fine. It’s not the official pitch yet, right? I’m sure Mr. Flynn won’t mind.”
Shannon nodded, inhaled deeply, and grabbed her bag.
They had agreed to meet around lunch, but she planned to arrive half an hour early. She didn’t want to be late, especially not for Flynn. In her memory, he had always been a man of precision, someone who valued punctuality and meant what he said.
When she entered the restaurant, she picked a table and waited, fiddling with the edge of her sleeve. Fifteen minutes later, just as she remembered, he walked in.
“How long have you been waiting?” His voice was exactly as she remembered, low and calm.
“Good thing I remembered you like being early,” he said with a gentle smile, settling into the chair across from her. “Otherwise, you would've had to wait longer.”
Shannon replied with a shy smile, “Sorry, I guess I was just a little too excited.”
Flynn signaled to the waiter and passed her the menu, letting her order first. Then, as they waited for the food, the conversation shifted, gently but surely.
“I read the comic you sent,” Flynn said, his fingers loosely interlaced on the table. “It’s good. I think it’s got real potential for adaptation. But… I noticed there haven’t been any updates in a while. What happened?”
The question caught her off guard. For a heartbeat, she froze. Her lashes trembled slightly as she looked away, as if searching for the right words in the quiet folds of air between them.
Flynn let out a small breath. “You don’t have to tell me if it’s personal. I just wanted to make sure you didn’t stop because you lost the spark.”
Shannon shook her head immediately. “No. I still care. I just… never uploaded the rest online. It’s finished, actually.”
She reached into her bag, pulled out her laptop, and opened the folder. Her fingers trembled slightly as she turned the screen toward him.
“This is the raw version,” she said, almost in a whisper.
"Just a few revisions and it’ll be ready to upload online. Do you think it’s necessary?"
Flynn flipped through the raw drafts on Shannon’s laptop, eyes scanning each page as he sank into quiet contemplation.
“Adaptation projects usually take time. It’s a good idea to update the webcomic regularly to gather new readers, and win back the old ones,” he finally said.
As they leaned closer to the screen, their shoulders nearly touching, the space between them seemed to shrink, their heads just inches apart.
Then, their food arrived, gently pulling them back to the present. They set the laptop aside. Still, the ease between them lingered unexpectedly warm, like the comfort of an old rhythm rediscovered after years of silence.
Their conversation flowed effortlessly.
For the first time in what felt like forever, Shannon spoke about her dreams with a kind of quiet confidence, not realizing how steady her voice had become.
“Would you like to be involved in the production?” Flynn asked.
“Ah...?” Shannon blinked, her eyes wide with a mix of confusion and disbelief. She understood the question, or at least, she thought she did. But part of her couldn’t quite grasp the possibility.
“I haven’t really thought about that,” she admitted.
Flynn chuckled softly. It wasn’t mocking, it was warm and amused, like he found her hesitation endearing rather than foolish.
“That’s fine. You can think about it,” he said. “But I’d like to offer you a significant role, something more than just ‘creator’. How about becoming the Executive Producer?”
Her spoon paused midair.
“This… isn’t that too much?” she murmured. “I don’t have the experience. And honestly, I’m not even that good at this.”
In the fog of uncertainty, she suddenly felt a gentle pressure on her hand. She looked up and met Flynn’s steady gaze.
He smiled, still calm, still reassuring.
“Don’t sell yourself short. I remember when you led the drama club project back in high school. You made it work, didn’t you? I believe you can do this too.”
“That was years ago…”
“Then let this be your new beginning,” he said softly. “You’ll learn. And it’s not as hard as it sounds. Your job would be to ensure that this adaptation stays true to your vision.”
He didn’t say much else. But Shannon could feel it, he wanted her to grow, to step into something bigger. He wanted her to claim the space she had always been too afraid to occupy.
It was a good thing. But maybe… too good for someone like her.
A flicker of fear crept into her chest.
After all, she had walked away from so many good things in the past, all because of her love for Maxime. She had been young, yes. But even youth didn’t soften the sting of regret.
And as if fate couldn’t let her have too much peace, the moment was quietly stolen, captured in a photo from afar and sent to someone else.
A few moments later, a call was made.
The voice on the other end sneered, “You were looking for her, right? Your girl’s here with another man. Tsk.”
- Writer
