As I sat in my chair with the glow of my laptop illuminating the room, I focused on the words flowing across the screen. Memories of Scott's voice echoed in my mind, urging me to continue typing.
Each keystroke seemed to transport me back to the moments we shared when happiness filled the space between us, untainted by judgment or outside influence. But then, as if the walls of nostalgia came crashing down, reality rushed in. The sting of rejection resurfaced, reminding me of the pain I felt when Scott turned me away, choosing someone else instead.
How could I have been so foolish to believe that I meant something more to him and that my love was enough to make him hang around? In that instant, a wave of clarity washed over me.
I finally understood the depth of my stupidity and how blind I had been to my love for him. I had allowed myself to become so consumed by my feelings for Scott, so hopelessly enchanted, that I failed to see the truth. And now, as I reluctantly continued to write the screenplay for my book, I couldn't help but question if I was making yet another foolish mistake.
For so long, I had kept my feelings for Scott hidden, buried beneath layers of denial and pretense. But no matter how hard I tried to move on from it, he still lingered in my thoughts like a haunting melody, his presence magnified through the lens of his carefully curated social media posts. Every glimpse of his charismatic facade carried me back to those moments when I reveled in the simple joy of seeing him in front of me, an oasis of happiness in the darkest of nights.
In those stolen moments, it felt like he genuinely cared for me, snuggling me in his embrace and showering me with tender kisses. Yet, I knew to myself it was all but a charade, a carefully constructed illusion we both played along with. Despite his renowned status, he didn't know who I was or what lay beneath the surface of my freelance singing career.
Perhaps he was just infatuated with my singing voice, enamored by the sound that poured forth from my soul. But did he truly love me, the woman behind the melodies and the unrequited heart that beat for him?
If only he could see beyond the facade, beyond the artist he thought he knew, and truly love me for who I was.
If only his love could penetrate the depths of my being, providing the comfort and reassurance my frantic heart yearned for. Then, maybe, I wouldn't be consumed by this seemingly unending madness that grips me now.
"I appreciate you coming here, Danni," Scott said calmly, pleased that I had decided to come when he texted me one day to meet up with him in our secret dwelling.
I couldn't help but laugh, trying to dispel the awkwardness that had settled over us. "You're the only one who knows that I tend to stroll at this time of night, even if it means running from the police," I admitted, attempting to lighten the mood.
Scott chuckled in response. "I highly doubt the police would chase after you," he comforted.
"Yeah, just as much as you wouldn't want to do it yourself, right?" I retorted sarcastically looking at his rather green-colored eyes—eyes that I had always adored. Scott then spoke up and apologized. "I want to apologize for what happened last time. I never intended to hurt you or give you a false impression."
I nodded, composing myself as I prepared to share something important with him.