The Chicken Soup 7

Adrian’s POV 

I spotted Camille at the entrance, fluffing the skirt of her gown with a dramatic flick of he fingers. As soon as she saw me, her lips curled into a pout. 

“Adrian, what took you so long?” she called out, her voice tinged with a playful whine as she shifted her weight from one heel to the other. “You have no idea how awkward it was wearing this gown in a taxi.” 

She gave a light laugh and brushed invisible lint off her shoulder like the whole thing had been some grand ordeal. 

“You always used to drive me to these galas. It feels weird that you didn’t this time.” 

Camille kept whining in that same teasing tone, but my head wasn’t there. 

I was already somewhere else, lost in thoughts of Julia. 

Julia had once been sweet and soft like her. 

Hell, she was this. 

But how long had it been since we’d done anything together? 

I closed my eyes for just a second. 

Ever since Lila arrived, Julia’s world had shrunk to revolve around our daughter. That was all she 

cared about. 

Then Camille appeared as a refreshing wedge of lime on a hot summer day, something that helped me breathe once more. 

It was just a break–a pause in the routine. 

But I never meant to stray off the course. 

“Adrian, are you not feeling well?” Camille’s gentle voice rang close to my ear, her face jus inches from mine. 

“Just a little tired, that’s all,” I told Camille quietly, stepping back when she moved closer. 

I couldn’t lie to her concern, but I didn’t want anyone else watching to know what I was dealing 

with. 

As we entered the gala, her arm entwined with mine, all eyes were on us. Whispers had been circulating for weeks. Moreover, Julia was absent from the gathering. 

A few colleagues approached us, 

“Big news for us tonight, Mr. Callahan?” 

“Aren’t you going to introduce her?” 

Camille’s blush warmed the room. She squeezed my arm just a bit tighter. 

I offered a small smile. 

“That’s Camille Quinn,” I said, feeling awkward. “She’s my assistant.” 

The soft murmurs of astonishment were just beginning when a microphone’s sound cut through. 

“Ladies and gentlemen, we have a special addition tonight–an auction! A Danish designer’s 

Chapter2 

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latest collection!” 

The curtain lifted, revealing a gown identical to Camille’s in the soft light. 

Instantly, Camille’s face lost color. 

She avoided my gaze. 

I cleared my throat. “Camille, you told me this was your late mother’s final design?” 

Her lips trembled. “Adrian, I’m sorry. Don’t be upset.” 

She adjusted her voice to weave in softness. “I was just scared you’d look down on someone from a small town like me. So I lied. I said my mom was a deceased designer.” 

Camille swallowed and continued, “I won’t lie again. I promise.” 

My chest tightened as if someone had stuffed it with cotton. I pulled my arm free and walked away, heading out toward the terrace. 

Outside under the night sky, I couldn’t help but think back to my first gala with Julia. We had shown up stiff, both of us a little awkward in a room full of strangers. 

We spent the night grinning and raising glasses like it all meant something. Then we slipped away and ended up at a night market, laughing over cheap street food like we were still just a couple of kids. 

I loved her then. Hell, I still did. 

We came from the same small town, chasing the same kind of dreams. It had always been the two of us, walking that one straight road. 

I never planned to veer off course. I just got too comfortable and fell asleep at the wheel. 

Now I was wide awake, and nothing looked the same. 

‘How did it end up like this?‘ 

I didn’t turn around when Camille followed me onto the balcony. I could feel her presence, hear her soft sniffles behind me. Her eyes were watery when she spoke. 

“Adrian, I really was wrong,” she said, lifting the hem of her dress ever so slightly. “I’ll resign tomorrow. I won’t come back to the company again.” 

Camille revealed just enough skin to remind me what she thought I wanted. She assumed I’d take the bait, and for a second, I let her think I might. I didn’t stop her. I didn’t say anything. 

At that moment, something changed within me. 

Everything snapped into place. 

I had made Camille my assistant for all the wrong reasons. She looked too much like Julia back in college, and I’d never wanted to admit it, even to myself. 

Then came the little habits I chose to ignore: the way her hand would linger when she passed me a document, the low cut of her blouse when she leaned forward, and that soft, boozy perfume she always wore at dinners, as though she was attempting to blend business with something far more personal. 

And I let it all happen, pretending I didn’t know better. 

12 14 

2:04 pm 

But I did. 

DDD 

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