Chapter 39
Corine
The room shimmered with wealth—golden light bouncing off crystal chandeliers, conversations layered like perfumes in the air. I stood beside Brittany, our flutes of champagne catching the sparkle as we tried to blend into a party that felt carved out of a different galaxy. She looked ethereal in a deep emerald gown, her red hair pinned up with delicate pearls. I didn’t feel like I belonged here. Not really. Not with everything I carried.
"Do you see the couple over there by the fountain centerpiece?" Brittany leaned in, her lips barely moving.
I nodded, pretending to sip.
"They were the ones who told everyone at a charity brunch that I went nuts and checked into rehab to lose weight. Not like it was a cry for help or anything."
I frowned. "Are they serious?"
"This circle never forgets scandal. They live for it," she muttered. "Just ignore them."
As we tried to move on, I caught more stares. More hushed whispers. My chest tightened. I knew the look. The half-curious, half-pitying glances. They recognized me. Corine—the one from the Vogue interview. The one with the hospital stay. The one whose husband cheated with Natasha.
"Ignore them," Brittany repeated firmly, taking my hand. "You don’t owe anyone a damn thing."
She always knew when my shoulders started to sag.
"I’m going to the bathroom before I key someone’s car," she said with a mischievous grin, squeezing my hand before disappearing down a long corridor.
I sighed and made my way to the bar. My second champagne, maybe third. I wasn't counting. The evening felt too polished, too glossy—like if I took a wrong step, I might shatter something.
That was when I felt him.
A presence behind me—a subtle shift in the air. And then a warm, smooth "Hey" whispered just behind my ear. My breath caught.
I turned.
Jasper.
Black suit, slightly loosened tie, smirk like a secret that knew its worth.
"You clean up well," he said, his voice low and soft.
I laughed, looking down, cheeks on fire. Why did I always blush around him?
"Happy birthday," I managed. My fingers fumbled in my small clutch before I pulled out a small box wrapped in silver. "I know it’s not much. It was...a last-minute grab."
He took the box, his fingers brushing mine. I felt the heat travel up my arm.
"You brought me a gift?" he said, a little surprised. He opened it. A simple but elegant silver cufflink set, monogrammed with his initials.
He smiled.
"It's perfect. Better than anything I got tonight," he said sincerely, and I swear my cheeks burned again.
I tried to sip champagne to cool down. "I doubt that."
He tilted his head, leaning just slightly closer. "How are Astrid and Kyle?"
My heart fluttered. He remembered their names. No man ever asked about my kids unless he had to.
"They’re doing well. Kyle’s obsessed with dinosaurs and Astrid keeps ruining my makeup routines. She wants to wear lipstick to daycare now."
He chuckled. "She sounds like a handful."
"She is. And I love every minute of it."
"You light up when you talk about them."
I swallowed.
"They’re... everything."
Before I could say more, Brittany reappeared. She walked toward us, her expression shifting the second another man joined our little group.
Jasper noticed too. He smiled knowingly.
"Corine, this is Aceson. Ace, meet Corine."
Aceson nodded, charming and sharp in a navy suit. Brittany had frozen up.
"Hey, Brit," he said gently.
She smiled, but it didn’t quite reach her eyes. "Hey."
I made a mental note to ask her about that later.
Then Jasper turned to me again. "Would you honor me with a dance?"
My mouth went dry. I hesitated, heart thumping.
"I—sure."
He offered his hand, and I let him lead me toward the dance floor, where a string quartet played something slow and rich. The room blurred as he took my waist, pulling me in gently.
"You smell like roses," he murmured.
I laughed, breathless. "That would be Luxe Bloom. I’m shamelessly advertising."
"Keep doing it. It’s working."
He twirled me, and I laughed again—really laughed. When he pulled me back, his eyes searched mine.
"You look beautiful tonight."
There was nothing flirty about the way he said it. Just honest. Deep.
"Thank you," I whispered.
I felt the ache in my chest. The familiar pull of guilt and longing. After everything I’d been through, after the darkness I survived—was I allowed to feel this?
We swayed in silence. My fingers resting on his shoulder. His hand warm on the small of my back.
For a moment, I forgot the whispers. The scars. The pain.
For a moment, I just danced.
And maybe, just maybe, I let myself believe there could still be good things waiting for me.
When the song ended, he leaned close. "You know, you just made this birthday unforgettable."
I didn’t trust my voice to answer. So I smiled, cheeks flushed.
"Come on," he said, taking my hand, "let’s go see what dessert they’re hiding in that marble garden."
And I followed.
With a little less fear.
And a heart that dared to hope.