CHAPTER 2
1002 Words
For several seconds, Camille simply stared at him.
The stranger's words lingered between them.
I think I might.
Most people would have followed that statement with curiosity.
Instead, he simply lifted his whiskey glass and took a slow sip.
No pressure. No pity. Just patience.
Oddly, that made her want to talk.
Camille looked away first.
"You don't know me."
"No."
His voice remained calm.
"I don't."
"Then trust me," she said bitterly. "You don't know what kind of disaster tonight was."
The corner of his mouth twitched. Not quite a smile.
"I saw enough."
Camille froze.
Her head turned slowly.
"What?"
The stranger met her gaze.
"I was upstairs."
Her stomach dropped. Heat rushed into her face instantly.
"Oh God."
She covered her eyes briefly.
"Oh my God."
The stranger remained silent, Which somehow made it worse.
Camille wanted the floor to open and swallow her whole.
Of all the bars. Of all the hotels. Of all the people.
She had managed to sit beside someone who had witnessed the worst moment of her life.
Perfect. Absolutely perfect.
She laughed once.
The sound was hollow.
"Then congratulations."
His eyebrow lifted slightly.
"For what?"
"You got front-row seats."
His expression changed.
Something hardened in his eyes.
"It wasn't entertainment."
The answer caught her off guard.
Most people would have treated it as gossip. A spectacle. Something juicy to discuss over drinks.
But he sounded genuinely irritated.
Almost angry For her.
Camille looked at him more carefully now.
He couldn't have been much older than his mid-thirties.
Everything about him screamed power.
The suit alone probably cost more than her monthly rent.
His watch looked expensive enough to pay off a student loan.
And yet there was something unexpectedly tired about him.
Not physically but Emotionally.
Like a man carrying far more weight than he allowed anyone to see.
The bartender appeared.
"What can I get you?"
Camille looked down at her nearly empty champagne glass.
Then she thought about tomorrow. The office. The embarrassment. The inevitable phone calls. The headlines. The explanations. The pity.
She closed her eyes.
"Tequila."
The stranger chuckled quietly.
The bartender raised an eyebrow.
"Are you sure?"
"No."
Camille sighed.
"That's exactly why I want it."
The bartender disappeared.
The stranger shook his head.
"That bad?"
"Worse."
The tequila arrived.
Camille grabbed it immediately.
The stranger watched her.
"Maybe don't."
She paused.
"Why?"
"Because you're upset."
"And?"
"People make bad decisions when they're upset."
A laugh escaped her. A real one this time.
"You have no idea how ironic that statement is."
His gaze lingered on her.
Something shifted in the atmosphere.
Camille looked away first.
Again.
The tequila burned going down.
Good.
She wanted something stronger than heartbreak occupying her chest.
For a while, neither of them spoke.
The silence felt strangely comfortable.
Eventually, he broke it.
"Five years?"
Her head snapped toward him.
"Excuse me?"
"The relationship."
His expression remained unreadable.
"I'm guessing five years."
Camille blinked.
"How?"
"You have the look."
"What look?"
"The look of someone who invested too much time."
The words landed harder than she expected. Because they were true.
Five years. Five years of compromise. Five years of waiting. Five years of believing she was building a future.
Only to discover she was standing in the way of someone else's.
She stared down into her glass.
"Five years.", "That's a long time."
"It was."
"Was?"
She smiled sadly.
"I think watching your boyfriend propose to another woman officially ends the relationship."
The stranger's gaze darkened.
Not with amusement. With anger.
For a second, Camille wondered why.
Then she dismissed the thought.
It wasn't her business.
The bartender refilled their drinks.
The hotel bar had started filling with people now.
"What's your name?" the stranger asked suddenly.
Camille hesitated.
Normally she would never tell a stranger personal information. Normally she would already be home.
Normally she wouldn't be drinking tequila beside a man whose eyes made it difficult to think clearly.
Tonight wasn't normal.
"My name is Camille."
His expression softened.
"Camille."
The way he said her name sent an unexpected shiver through her.
Like he was testing how it felt. Like he liked it.
She ignored the reaction.
"What about you?"
A brief pause.
Then:
"Ren."
Camille tilted her head.
"That's it?"
His mouth curved slightly.
"That's enough."
The confidence in his answer made her smile despite herself.
Arrogant, And somehow charming.
She hated that.
The conversation flowed easier after that.
Hours seemed to disappear.
Camille found herself talking more than she intended. About work. About ambitions. About wanting something bigger from life.
Not once did Ren interrupt. Not once did he check his phone. Not once did he seem distracted.
He just listened.
As though every word mattered.
Which was ironic, Because Adrian had stopped listening years ago.
At some point Camille realized she was smiling.
The realization stunned her.
How was that possible?
Two hours ago, she had been publicly humiliated.
Now she was laughing with a stranger.
"You know what's pathetic?" she asked.
Ren leaned back slightly.
"What?"
"I spent years trying to become exactly what Adrian wanted."
The confession escaped before she could stop it.
But Ren didn't judge.
So she continued.
"I adjusted everything."
Her voice softened.
"My schedule. My expectations. My priorities."
"And somehow I still wasn't enough."
The words hung heavily between them.
For a moment Ren didn't speak.
Then:
"Maybe the problem wasn't you."
Camille looked at him.
His gray eyes held hers steadily.
"No?"
"No."
The certainty in his voice startled her. As though he knew. As though he had witnessed enough to form an opinion. As though he was angry on her behalf.
The silence stretched. Neither looked away.
The chemistry that had lingered quietly all evening suddenly became impossible to ignore.
Camille felt it.
Her pulse quickened.
Ren seemed equally aware. His gaze dropped briefly to her mouth.
Then returned to her eyes.
The air shifted. Everything changed Slowly.
And for the first time all night, Camille forgot Adrian entirely.
- Writer
