Chapter 3 A phase

Selena's Pov.

What do you do when life throws shit at you? You clean yourself up and push back.

That was what I did. After my breakup with Arthur, I was left in a dump, I lost most of my clients due to a scandal that depicted me as a gold digger which was why Arthur left.

But that didn't stop me...

"More to the left, please," I directed one of the staff members, pointing towards a cluster of crystal vases. I didn't like the way they were aligned.

I watched over the gigantic hall that was to become a venue for a major event. I was tasked with this job. It was the first major gig that I took in many years.

I went from a rich businesswoman to an average Joe, but at last, things are looking to become more bright.

I wanted everything to be perfect. From the decorations to every single element in the hall. I am a perfectionist, and I refuse to settle for anything that's not the best.

I adjusted a silver candelabra, my fingers grazed over the cool metal. I made sure it stood as straight and proud as I had to be in this industry.

"Perfect." I huffed with a smile depicting my satisfaction.

"My my," My assistant, Tess walked to me. "The gentle flicker of candlelight cast shadows that played across the walls." She reviewed.

"Thank you," I said pleasantly.

There's this joy with having everything go as intended. Every chair, every fork, every note of the string quartet's serenade had been carefully curated under my watchful eye.

My client was a wealthy business conglomerate whose reputation for opulence was only matched by my grand events. They chose to trust me with this night.

And I will deliver with the best of my abilities.

"Selena, the guests are raving about the ambiance," the maître d' whispered.

His words stroked my ego, but I composed myself and wore a faint smile. I tried not to jump around the place like a little girl. It's one thing to work hard, but being appreciated and complemented makes all the stress worth it.

"Ensure the champagne remains chilled and the glasses never empty," I replied with a soft voice. I made sure it carried the weight of unspoken authority.

It wasn't just about the physical elements-it was about creating an experience, a seamless transition from moment to moment where guests could drown in the luxury, oblivious to the meticulous choreography behind the scenes.

"Of course, Miss Hall," he said before slipping away, blending into the orchestrated rhythm of waitstaff and attendees.

Tonight, like every event before, was more than a party; it was a showcase of my capacity to create beauty from chaos, to weave together threads of desire and expectation into a tapestry that left no room for error, for heartbreak.

For me, this was more than a profession. With each successful event, I stitched another patch over the frayed edges of my past, proving to myself that what lay behind me was nothing compared to the future I was building breathtaking gala at a time.

I glide through the crowd, a whisper of silk and certainty.

The long, wavy tendrils of my brown hair catch whispers of light from the crystal chandeliers, casting a warm glow on my face as I scan the revelry with piercing green eyes-windows to a soul tempered by trials.

Each step is measured, deliberate; a dance among the shadows of joy I orchestrate but seldom feel. They don't see the steel beneath the soft exterior, the resilience forged in the fire of betrayal.

A flute of champagne finds its way into my hand, the bubbles mirroring the fizz of laughter around me.

I take a sip, the crispness sharp against my tongue, a stark contrast to the sweetness of reminiscence that threatens to invade my senses.

It begins a fleeting sigh of memory luxury that once cradled my life like a lover's promise. Arthur.

His name alone conjures a world draped in velvet and gold, a time when opulence was the backdrop to our love.

I remember the gleam of his dark hair, the depth of his brown eyes ocean I willingly drowned in. He was more than a man; he was an epoch in my history, a chapter written in diamonds and sealed with a kiss.

We were the epitome of desire, a portrait of perfection etched in the minds of those who envied the dream we lived.

Our days were wrapped in the embrace of affluence, nights lost in the labyrinths of passion.

But even the grandest empires cast shadows, and ours grew along with the ticking of a clock counting down to the end of a contract expiry date on 'forever.'

"Is everything to your satisfaction, Miss Hall?" a voice cuts through the haze of my reverie, sharp as the break of dawn.

"Exquisite as ever," I reply, my tone even, belying the storm of emotions that churn beneath.

Satisfaction is a stranger I entertain from a distance, a guest that lingers just beyond reach. With each word I speak, I mend the cracks in my facade, painting over the past with a smile practiced in the art of deception.

"Your vision always exceeds expectation," they continue, oblivious to the ache within my chest, the silent scream of a heart that knows too well the price of perfection.

"Thank you," I murmur, my gaze drifting over the sea of faces-none of which are his. Arthur's absence is a specter that haunts the corners of grand rooms, a chill that lingers despite the warmth of success.

Once, I believed love would triumph, that the turn of a page could not erase the story we'd written. But the ink had faded, the paper torn, leaving nothing but echoes of a symphony that ended too soon.

With each step I take, I move further away from the ghost of what was, my spirit buoyed by the knowledge that this, too, shall pass.

The party swirls around me, a vortex of celebration that I command yet remain apart from, a solitary figure navigating a world that whispers of lost loves and newfound strength.

In the quiet space between heartbeats, I made a silent vow to rise from the ashes of the events of the previous day and to kindle a flame of hope in the darkness of my heartbreak.

For though love may leave, life beckons with the promise of a new dawn, and I am nothing if not a survivor, ready to face the day.

Every day I took a moment to question my decision. Was it the right thing? Could I have stayed back and fought for his love? Would he have changed his decision had I tried a little bit more?

And every day, the same answer came to me – yes.

Yes, it was the right thing. Yes, I could have stayed and fought for his love. Yes, he would have changed his decision if I tried.

But then I would have to ask myself one more question – what was the use?

Why was I trying so hard?

Why was I trying to salvage a relationship with someone who did not value me enough to stay back? Why was I fighting for a love that was not reciprocated?

It was then I realized that it was better off this way. I did not want to be in a relationship that did not bring out the best in me.

The only person I had to depend on was myself.

That was why when the call came, I wasn't sure what to do.

It was the first time we had spoken after the split.

I stared at my phone when it came in, trying to choose between answering it and ignoring him.

It was his voice on the other end that got me.

"Selena."

His voice was deep and soothing.

It sounded different from before.

"How are you?" he asked.

"I'm fine."

"I hope you've been well."

"Yes."

"Good."

The silence on the line was almost deafening.

"Listen, Selena," he began, "I want to talk to you about something. Can we meet?"

"Meet?" I asked, surprised.

"Yes. Just a talk. Nothing else."

I sighed.

"Fine. Where?"

"You pick the place. I'm fine with wherever you choose, to be honest."

"Fine. Meet me at the cafe on the corner of Fifth Avenue. I'll be there."

"Okay."

"Bye."

"Bye, Selena."

I hung up the phone.

What did he want to talk to me about?