PERFECT SEASON

Chapter 3

In the days that followed their unexpected encounter, Win found himself drawn into a complicated web of emotions. His interactions with Bright were like a fragile thread, weaving between understanding and frustration. Each time they met, the air crackled with a tension that was both invigorating and exhausting. They began to exchange messages, occasionally meeting for casual dinners or brief coffee breaks, but every meeting seemed to bring new challenges to the surface.

Win couldn't shake the feeling that Bright was a man in turmoil. Their conversations often skimmed the surface, with Bright skillfully deflecting questions about his life or emotions. Win, still grappling with his own grief, understood the struggle to maintain a façade, but it frustrated him to see someone so capable hide behind walls built of pride and pain.

One afternoon, as they sat in a quiet café overlooking the river, Win observed Bright, who was dressed impeccably in a tailored suit, his presence commanding attention even in the understated surroundings. Bright was tapping away on his phone, his brow furrowed in concentration, but Win could sense the tension in his posture.

"Are you always this busy?" Win asked, attempting to break the silence that had settled between them like a heavy fog.

Bright looked up, his expression guarded. "There's always something happening in my world. You learn to adapt."

"Adaptation is one thing," Win replied, leaning forward. "But you seem like you're running from something. Is it the business? Or something else?"

Bright set his phone down, a flash of irritation crossing his features. "I don't run from anything, Win. I handle my responsibilities. You should know that better than anyone, given your own career."

Win felt a sting at the jab, the reminder of his own struggles. "I'm not suggesting you're weak. I'm saying you don't have to carry everything alone."

Bright's eyes narrowed, and Win braced himself for the usual defensive response. But instead, Bright sighed heavily, the tension in his shoulders loosening just a fraction. "It's complicated."

"Try me," Win urged gently, his voice steady. "We've both been through hell. Maybe we can help each other navigate this chaos."

Bright's gaze flickered to the bustling street outside, the world moving on without them. Win could see the conflict in his eyes, the battle between vulnerability and the impenetrable wall he had built around himself.

"I don't need help," Bright finally said, his tone firm yet lacking conviction. "I've built my empire alone, and I intend to keep it that way."

"Maybe you shouldn't have to," Win replied softly. "You know, I used to think I had to face everything on my own too. But after losing Amanda and Josh, I realized that sharing the burden doesn't make you weak—it makes you human."

Bright fell silent, his expression unreadable. The words hung in the air, charged with unspoken emotions. Win could feel the weight of Bright's history, the shadows lurking just beneath the surface.

As they continued to converse, the atmosphere around them shifted. A group of journalists entered the café, instantly recognizing Bright. Their excited chatter reached Win's ears, and he watched as the familiar unease washed over Bright's features.

"Looks like you're popular," Win commented, trying to lighten the mood.

Bright's jaw tightened, his eyes narrowing as he scanned the group. "This is exactly what I was trying to avoid."

The journalists were drawing closer, cameras at the ready, and Win could sense Bright's growing agitation. The sudden shift from an intimate conversation to being thrust back into the public eye felt like a crushing blow.