Find Your Own North

Chapter 8: The Velvet Cage .

The Obsidian was everything I usually avoided: dim lighting, crystal chandeliers that looked like frozen rain, and the quiet clink of silver against fine china. It was beautiful, but it felt stiff.

Julian, however, was in his element. From the moment we walked in, he was the perfect escort. He kept his hand lightly on the small of my back—a gesture that felt more like a display of ownership than a supportive touch.

"Maya, you have to meet the Chairman," Julian whispered, guiding me toward a group of men in dark suits.

Throughout the night, Julian was attentive—almost too attentive. He pulled out my chair, he anticipated my drink order, and he charmed my colleagues with stories that always seemed to highlight his own successes. Every time I tried to join the conversation, he would find a way to loop it back to me in a way that felt like he was presenting a trophy.

"Maya is being modest," he told the Head of Department, flashing a brilliant smile. "Her lesson plans are already the talk of the staff room. I knew the moment I saw her that she was the brightest spark in this building."

The compliments were constant. He was treating me like a queen, yet I felt strangely invisible. Julian was looking at the woman in the emerald dress, but he wasn't looking at me.

When the main course arrived, Julian leaned in close, his shoulder brushing mine. "You’re the most beautiful woman here, Maya. You know that, right?"

"Thank you, Julian," I said, forcing a smile. I took a sip of the expensive red wine. It was smooth, but it lacked the bite of the cheap cider Liam and I usually shared.

"I’m glad you came with me," he continued, his voice dropping to a low, intimate tone. "I think we make a great team. Professionally, and... otherwise."

He reached under the table, his hand finding mine and squeezing it. His skin was warm, but I didn't feel the spark I had felt in the rain with Liam. Instead, I felt a wave of crushing guilt.

I looked around the opulent room and realized that if I were here with Liam, we’d be whispering jokes about the tiny portions or making up fake backstories for the people at the next table. With Julian, I had to be "on." I had to be the perfect plus-one.

"Are you okay?" Julian asked, noticing my silence. "Is the steak not to your liking?"

"It’s fine," I said quickly. "Just a bit of a headache. The lights, I think."

"Of course," he said, immediately signaling the waiter for water. "Anything you need, Maya. I've got you."

He was doing everything right. He was kind, protective, and clearly infatuated. He was the "perfect" guy on paper. So why did I feel like I was sitting in a beautiful cage, staring at the door and wishing for a man who didn't even have an invitation?

I checked my phone under the table. No messages. The silence from Liam was louder than the quartet playing in the corner of the room.