The new rhythm
1937 Words
Lucy led her to the car, quickly opening the back seat door. “Get in, Amelia,” she said softly.
Amelia got into the car like a machine. Lucy closed the door and rushed to the driver’s seat. Moments later, the car sped away from the entrance of the lavish party venue.
As Lucy drove, she glanced at Amelia in the rearview mirror occasionally. Amelia’s face was set like stone, her eyes fixed on the streetlights, but Lucy knew she wasn't seeing anything. She was in her own private, mournful calm.
“Do you want to talk about it?” Lucy finally asked, her voice careful and gentle.
“No,” Amelia’s reply was immediate, a single, flat word.
Lucy nodded. “Okay. I’ll take you home. And then I’ll make you a hot cup of tea. Or a shot of whiskey.”
The words finally brought a slight reaction from Amelia. She slowly turned her head.
“Whiskey,” she said.
“Good.” Lucy let out a sigh. This night had ended disastrously. She could feel Amelia’s pain. They had been close friends for so long. Lucy knew Amelia hadn't loved this fiancé; the engagement was largely a family obligation. But being betrayed openly, in front of everyone, was a whole different kind of agony.
“I’m not taking you home,” Lucy decided suddenly. “We’re going to my place. You can’t be alone tonight. I’ll call your mother.”
Amelia didn’t try to object. She stared out the window as the busy city streets flew past. The scene of the red-haired woman and her ex-fiancé kissing on the dance floor kept replaying in her mind.
Suddenly, she started to laugh. It wasn’t a joyful laugh, but a bitter, painful, uncontrollable fit of giggles.
Lucy slammed on the brakes in alarm. “Amelia! What is it?”
Amelia held up a hand, still trying to stifle the laughter, but tears were streaming from her eyes. “I feel like such an i***t, Lucy,” she gasped out. “I sat there for someone I didn't even want to be there for. I don’t even know if what I did just now was a drama or a relief.”
“It was a relief, sweetheart. Absolute relief,” Lucy affirmed. “You are now free from a toxic relationship. That’s what matters most. He might have been the choice for your family, but he was never the choice for you.”
Lucy started driving again. “Don’t worry about throwing the ring, by the way. Let him suffer trying to find that thing. That’s his headache, not yours.”
Amelia quieted down, but her breathing was more regular now. Lucy reached across the seat and squeezed her hand. “You can be angry as long as you need. You can cry as much as you need. But from this moment on, you only do things for yourself, Amelia. Only your will matters.”
Amelia looked at Lucy. Her eyes were still wet, but there was a new glint in them, a sort of fierce freedom. “I was... I was thinking about my bed,” she said in a low voice. “I need to sleep in my bed, at my house.”
“Fine. We’re going there,” Lucy decided instantly. “I’m staying with you tonight. I’ll make your house a safe zone. You can turn off that damn phone.” Lucy turned the car around. She knew exactly where they needed to go now: to an independent, new beginning for the new Amelia.
~~~
The salty scent of the ocean filled the air, a welcome change from the stale scent of Amelia’s heartbreak. Lucy, ever the pragmatist, had steered their silent car towards the unexpected glow of a New Year's Eve beach party. The rhythmic thud of bass music vibrated through the sand, promising a distraction Amelia desperately needed.
"Come on," Lucy urged gently, pulling Amelia from the car. "A little fun never hurt anyone."
Amelia, still numb from the revelation of her fiancé's betrayal, allowed herself to be led. The beach was a vibrant tapestry of laughter, music, and the shimmering lights of fireworks streaking across the night sky. Bonfires crackled, casting dancing shadows on people’s faces, and the ocean roared its own celebratory rhythm.
They found a small spot near a bonfire, the warmth a comforting contrast to the chill in Amelia's heart. Lucy, ever observant, quickly navigated them to the bar. Amelia watched the revelers, a detached observer in her own life, until a voice broke through her reverie.
"Mind if I borrow that spot?" Amelia looked up to see a man standing over her, a genuine, easy smile gracing his lips. He had kind eyes, a scattering of freckles, and a laugh line that creased invitingly at the corner of one eye. He wasn't overtly handsome in the conventional sense, but there was an undeniable magnetism about him, a warmth that seemed to radiate even in the cool night air.
"Oh," Amelia mumbled, caught off guard. "No, not at all."
He settled beside her, offering a hand. "I'm Austin. Happy New Year, even if it's a bit early."
"Amelia," she replied, a faint smile touching her lips for the first time in days. "And you too."
Austin didn't pry, didn't ask why she looked so lost amidst the celebration. Instead, he simply talked, his voice a low, comforting rumble. He spoke of his travels, of the joy of spontaneous decisions, and of his love for the ocean. Amelia found herself listening, truly listening, the knot of pain in her chest slowly beginning to unravel. She did not even mind, a stranger was talking about him like they were known for years.
Later, Lucy returned with two drinks, a mischievous glint in her eyes when she saw Austin. She exchanged a quick, knowing glance with Amelia before handing her a brightly colored cocktail. He introduced himself to Lucy as well.
As the countdown to midnight began, Amelia felt a strange sense of lightness. The past few minutes had been a blur of betrayal and sorrow, but here, on this crowded beach, with the sand between her toes and the sound of Austin’s easy laughter beside her, a tiny spark of hope flickered within her.
When the clock struck twelve, fireworks exploded in a symphony of light and color, illuminating the entire beach. Austin turned to Amelia, his eyes reflecting the shimmering lights. "Happy New Year, Amelia."
"Happy New Year, Austin," she whispered, and for the first time, she truly meant it. Perhaps, she thought, a new year, and a new beginning, wasn't such an impossible dream after all.
~~~
Amidst the swirling celebratory chaos, Amelia stood there like a numb, nursing a glass of sparkling cider. The festive atmosphere felt like a thin, bright veil over a deep, internal ache. She was trying, truly trying, but the ghosts of last year—the sharp memory of a betrayal that had shattered her trust—still clung to her like a cold shadow.
Her best friend, Lucy, a whirlwind of metallic silver and bright smiles, planted herself firmly in front of her. “Come on, Emmy! It’s midnight! Look around!” Lucy grabbed Amelia’s arm, pulling her slightly forward. “It’s a fresh start, a clean slate, a brand new everything! That pain? Leave it in the dust of 2025. I need you to feel the bass, not the sadness.”
Lucy was relentless, her enthusiasm a warm, persistent wave. She gestured wildly towards the crowd, where couples were hugging and cheering as the clock struck zero. “Come on, join the dance! Just one song! For me!” Lucy gave Amelia a hopeful, encouraging look, her eyes shining with genuine concern.
Amelia shook her head, a tired smile touching her lips. “I can’t, Luce. I feel like a mannequin in a disco. I’d just ruin the vibe.”
But Lucy wasn't listening. Her gaze had suddenly shifted over Amelia’s shoulder, and a slow, knowing smirk spread across her face.
Across the dancing crowd, near the bar counter, Austin stood in a group of friends, but his attention was elsewhere. Tall, with an easy smile and eyes that seemed genuinely kind, he had been subtly observing Amelia for the better part of the evening. He knew, vaguely, that she’d been through a rough time, and he sensed the quiet struggle behind her polite smiles.
As Lucy turned to encourage Amelia again, Austin found himself stealing a glance at her. She looked beautiful but guarded, like a delicate flower protecting its petals from a sudden frost. He took a deep breath, telling himself that New Year's was about seizing a moment. Don't overthink it, he told himself. Just ask.
He detached himself from his friends and navigated the sea of dancers, his heart thumping a steady rhythm that matched the music. He stopped a few feet away, waited for a beat in the song, and then offered his hand to her, a direct, clear gesture that required no words.
“Happy New Year, Amelia,” he said, his voice warm and low, cutting through the background noise. “May I have this dance?”
Amelia’s breath hitched slightly. The gesture was so old-fashioned, so sincere, that it completely disarmed her. She looked at his outstretched hand—strong, open, and utterly unthreatening. She glanced past him at Lucy, who was now bouncing on the balls of her feet, her eyes wide with frantic, silent encouragement.
The sudden attention made her hesitate. The idea of being held, even lightly, by a kind stranger felt both terrifying and wonderfully tempting. The thought of not dancing felt like staying stuck.
With a deep sigh, a quiet acknowledgment that she was ready to take a risk, Amelia finally nodded. “Okay, Austin,” she murmured, and she laid her hand in his.
As their fingers laced together, Amelia reluctantly agreed to dance with him.
Austin’s smile was immediate and genuine. He didn't pull her forcefully into the center of the crowd, but gently led her to a slightly quieter spot on the edge of the seashore. He placed his other hand lightly on her waist, and they began to move to the slow, swaying melody that followed the midnight rush.
As they danced, his steps were confident but respectful, keeping a comfortable distance. His eyes held hers, not with the flash of instant desire, but with a quiet, steady warmth. It felt like standing in a gentle patch of sunlight after a long, cold storm.
From the corner of her eyes, Lucy watched the pair. As Amelia finally let a small, genuine smile bloom on her face, Lucy discreetly raised her hand and gave a thumbs up.
Amelia didn't see the gesture, but she felt its sentiment. In the protective shelter of Austin’s arms, swaying gently to a new song on a brand new day, the hard, sharp edges of her betrayal pain began, finally, to soften and blur. The future, she realized, might just hold a kinder rhythm.
The bass thrummed, a physical thing that vibrated through the speaker and into Amelia’s chest, rattling the cage she’d lived in for twenty-four years. She was pressed against a stranger—Austin. And she was flying.
- Writer
