Chapter 3 No.3

The next few days blurred into a quiet torment.

Arvin could hear Jorja's laughter echoing from the garden, where she sat with Cale. He could hear the low murmur of their voices from the study-his study-late into the night.

He moved through the house like a shadow, his presence acknowledged only when something was needed. A meal. A misplaced item. A ride into the city.

The Romero family was hosting their annual charity ball. It was an event Arvin usually helped plan, overseeing every detail. This year, Jorja had given the task to Cale.

Arvin stood by the French doors of the ballroom, watching.

Jorja was in Cale's arms, dancing. She wore a silver gown that clung to her like a second skin. Cale leaned in and whispered something in her ear, and she threw her head back and laughed, a genuine, carefree sound Arvin had never heard directed at him.

Cale's hand rested possessively on the small of her back. He was staking his claim, and the whole world was watching. Arvin was just part of the scenery.

Jorja's younger sister, Kallie, sauntered over to him, a glass of champagne in her hand.

"Still hanging around?" she asked, her voice dripping with disdain. "I'm surprised. I thought you'd have taken the hint by now."

Kallie had always despised him. She saw him as a leech, an up-jumped charity case who had tricked his way into their family.

"Cale is back," she continued, a smug smile on her face. "Jorja's real love. You were just a placeholder, a warm body to keep her bed from getting cold."

Arvin said nothing. He just watched the couple on the dance floor.

He saw Jorja spot him. She excused herself from Cale and walked over, her expression unreadable.

"What are you doing just standing here?" she asked, her tone clipped.

"I was enjoying the view," Arvin replied, his voice flat.

"Kallie, leave him alone," Jorja said, though there was no force behind the words.

Arvin tried to catch her eye, to say something, anything. But Cale was already walking towards them.

"Everything alright, my love?" Cale asked, sliding his arm around Jorja's waist and pulling her against him. He looked at Arvin as if he were a servant who had overstepped. "Is he bothering you?"

"No, of course not," Jorja said quickly, leaning into Cale's embrace. "Arvin knows his place."

The words hit him like a physical blow. His place.

Kallie snickered. "See? Even my sister knows you're just the hired help."

Cale then noticed Arvin's cufflinks. Simple, elegant silver knots.

"Nice cufflinks," Cale said with a smirk. "Where'd you get them?"

Before Arvin could answer, Jorja spoke. "Oh, those. I gave them to him for his birthday one year." She reached out, her fingers brushing against Cale's shirt cuff. "They'd look much better on you, Cale."

The casual cruelty of it stole Arvin's breath. He had worn those cufflinks to every formal event for four years. They were one of the few personal gifts she had ever given him.

Later that evening, Elizebeth Romero found him on the terrace.

"Jorja is happy," she said, not as a question, but as a statement. She looked out at her daughter, who was now publicly holding hands with Cale. "It seems Cale's return was exactly what she needed."

Arvin looked at the woman who had orchestrated his life for the past five years.

"She's planning a future with him," Elizebeth continued, her gaze finally settling on Arvin. A flicker of something-pity? guilt?-crossed her face before it was gone. "I think it's time we all moved on."

It was a dismissal. A final confirmation of his obsolescence.

He saw Jorja raise a glass on the other side of the ballroom. Cale was by her side, beaming. People were clapping. An announcement.

He didn't need to hear the words. He could see it all in her radiant face. It was a declaration of happiness. A happiness that had no room for him.

He turned and walked away. He didn't say goodbye. He just left.

He walked out of the ballroom, through the manicured gardens, and out the main gates. He didn't look back. It was a clean, final exit. He was done being a spectator to his own life.