Beneath the Country Sky

Chapter 7: Under the Glow of the Greenhouse

Scarlette clutched the edges of the tricycle's metal seat, feeling the wind whip through her hair as the vehicle jostled along the unpaved road that led to her grandmother's hacienda. The sun had long set, and the stars twinkled faintly overhead, but her heart felt heavier than the night sky. Each bump on the road resonated with the emptiness inside her. She had left the market in a daze, the cheerful chatter of the townsfolk and the strains of music still echoing in her ears, but they seemed worlds away now.

As the tricycle came to a stop, she climbed down and walked the short path to the front porch, her mind still replaying the earlier events like a broken record. Her grandmother, Victoria, sat there with her usual grace, a cup of tea cradled in her hands. The warm glow of the porch light highlighted her gentle features, but all Scarlette could focus on was the familiar weight of disappointment she sensed in the air.

"Scarlette, you're home late," her grandmother noted, her voice soft yet firm, as if she had been waiting for this moment.

"Just had some things to do," Scarlette replied, trying to muster a smile, but it faltered before it reached her lips.

The silence between them thickened as Scarlette stepped inside, her grandmother's gaze following her. She didn't have the courage to sit down for dinner. Her stomach churned, not from hunger but from a deep-seated ache that had been festering since her life unraveled in front of the cameras. Instead, she made her way straight to her room, shutting the door behind her with a sense of finality.

Once the door clicked shut, the walls of the small room became her sanctuary, yet also her prison. She leaned against the door, sliding down to the floor, her heart pounding in her chest like a caged bird. The familiar scent of her old perfume lingered in the air, but it offered her no comfort tonight.

Tears began to spill from her eyes, hot and unrelenting. She buried her face in her hands, letting the memories flood back-each one a stab to her already wounded pride. The images danced in her mind: her glamorous life, the bright lights, the awards, the fans... all replaced by the darkness that had engulfed her after the scandal.

"Scarlette, please don't do this!" her manager's voice echoed in her head, desperation dripping from each word as she begged him to stay. She could picture the room where they had sat, surrounded by plans and dreams that now felt like a distant fantasy.

But the weight of reality crushed her. She remembered that dreadful moment on live television when her lover's wife had called her a slut and a homewrecker, her words like daggers that pierced the facade Scarlette had carefully constructed. The humiliation had been unbearable, her world crumbling around her as the nation watched, judgment written on their faces.

"Just a mistake," she whispered to herself, but the words felt hollow. Her career-her identity-had evaporated in an instant, leaving her grappling with a void she didn't know how to fill.

Sobs wracked her body, and she let herself break down completely behind the closed door. This was her reality now-a once-promising actress reduced to nothing more than a cautionary tale.

"How could they do this to me?" Scarlette cried out, her voice muffled against her palms. "I was good! I was talented!"

But talent meant nothing when scandal overshadowed it. She felt so foolish for believing that her skills could save her from the inevitable judgment of a society that thrived on gossip and drama.

In that moment of despair, she wanted to scream. To lash out at everyone who had turned their backs on her. Instead, she crumbled into a heap, the tears flowing freely as she allowed herself to feel the full weight of her loss.

The echoes of laughter from the market replayed in her mind, each chuckle a reminder of her isolation. She could still see Cooper up on that stage, surrounded by admirers, while she remained in the shadows, her heart heavy with jealousy and longing. Why couldn't she be the one up there, celebrated and adored?