Mr.Brightside

CHAPTER 1

Clara POV

The city lights flickered through the window, casting a kaleidoscope of colors across my bedroom walls. I stood by the dresser, absently adjusting a photo frame of Jack and me. His broad smile and twinkling eyes stared back at me, and I felt a pang of guilt twist in my chest. Jack was everything I could ever want-kind, optimistic, and unwaveringly supportive. But lately, something had been gnawing at the edges of my contentment, something I couldn't quite put into words.

The hum of my phone vibrating on the nightstand pulled me from my thoughts. I glanced at the screen, my heart skipping a beat. It was a message from Tom.

Hey Clara, I'm in town. Can we meet?

I bit my lip, my mind a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. Tom and I had a complicated history, one that I had carefully tucked away when Jack came into my life. But Tom had a way of stirring up old memories, feelings I thought I had buried. I hesitated for a moment before replying.

Sure. Tomorrow at 5?

The reply came almost instantly.

Perfect. See you then.

I put the phone down, feeling a mix of excitement and dread. What was I doing? Jack would never understand this meeting. Hell, I barely understood it myself. But I needed to see Tom, if only to lay the past to rest once and for all.

The front door creaked open, and Jack's voice echoed through the apartment. I quickly composed myself, slipping the phone into my pocket and plastering a smile on my face as I walked out to greet him. He stood in the living room, shrugging off his coat, his face lighting up when he saw me.

"Hey, you," he said, wrapping me in a warm embrace. "How was your day?"

"Good," I lied, forcing a smile. "Just the usual. How about you?"

"Same. Busy at work, but it's all good now that I'm home with you."

His words were genuine, his affection palpable. I felt another twist of guilt but pushed it down, resolving to keep my rendezvous with Tom a secret.

We spent the evening together, cooking dinner and watching a movie. Jack's laughter filled the apartment, a comforting sound that made me feel safe and loved. But my mind kept drifting to tomorrow's meeting, wondering what Tom would say, how he would look, if seeing him again would stir up old feelings I wasn't ready to confront.

Jack's hand rested on my thigh as we sat on the couch, his thumb gently stroking my skin. It was such a familiar gesture, one that usually brought me comfort. Tonight, though, it felt like a reminder of the secret I was keeping.

"Are you okay?" Jack asked, his brow furrowing with concern. "You seem a bit distant."

"I'm fine, just a little tired," I said, leaning in to kiss him, hoping to dispel his worries. "It's been a long day."

He smiled, but his eyes remained worried. "Alright. Just remember, I'm here if you need to talk about anything."

"I know," I said softly. "Thank you, Jack."

Later that night, as Jack slept soundly beside me, I lay awake, staring at the ceiling. The room felt colder, the city lights less comforting. I knew I was standing on the edge of a precipice, and one wrong step could send my carefully constructed life spiraling out of control.

The Next Day

The next day dragged on. Every tick of the clock seemed louder, every minute stretching into an eternity. I went through the motions at work, barely able to focus. My thoughts were consumed by the impending meeting with Tom. By the time the clock hit four-thirty, I could barely sit still.

I left the office in a rush, my heart pounding as I made my way to the café where we had agreed to meet. The city's usual bustle seemed distant, the noise and chatter blending into a dull roar as I approached the small, cozy café tucked away on a quiet street.

Tom was already there, sitting at a corner table with a coffee in front of him. He looked up as I entered, a small smile playing on his lips. Seeing him again was like stepping back in time. He hadn't changed much-same dark hair, same intense eyes. Memories flooded back, unbidden and unwelcome.

"Clara," he said, standing up to hug me. "It's been a long time."

"It has," I replied, feeling a mixture of nostalgia and anxiety. "How have you been?"

We sat down, and for a moment, it felt like old times. We talked about mundane things-work, mutual friends, life in general. But there was an underlying tension, a current of unfinished business that neither of us was willing to address outright.

Finally, Tom broke the silence. "I've missed you, Clara. More than I can say."

My heart skipped a beat. "Tom, I'm with someone now. You know that."

"I do," he said, his eyes searching mine. "But I had to see you. I needed to know if there was still something between us."

I looked down at my hands, my mind racing. What was I doing here? Jack was home, probably cooking dinner or setting up another movie night, trusting me completely. And here I was, entertaining a conversation that could unravel everything.

"Tom, I-" I started, but he cut me off.

"I know it's complicated. But you can't tell me you haven't thought about us. About what we had."

I felt a tear slip down my cheek. "Of course I've thought about it. But it's over, Tom. I'm with Jack now. He's good for me. He's-"

"Safe," Tom finished for me, a hint of bitterness in his voice. "He's safe, and I was...what? Dangerous? Exciting?"

I didn't have an answer for him. All I knew was that Jack made me feel secure, loved, and valued. But Tom had been a wildfire, burning bright and fast, leaving a trail of passion and pain in his wake.

"I need to go," I said, standing up abruptly. "This was a mistake."

Tom stood too, reaching for my hand. "Clara, wait. Please, just-"

"No, Tom. I can't do this," I said, pulling away. "Goodbye."

I left the café, my heart pounding, tears streaming down my face. The city lights blurred as I hurried down the street, desperate to escape the emotions crashing over me. I had to get home, to Jack. I needed his steady presence, his unwavering support.

### Home

When I walked through the door, Jack was there, his face lighting up when he saw me. "Hey, you're home! I made your favorite-spaghetti carbonara."

The smell of the food, the warmth of the apartment, and the sight of Jack's genuine smile brought a fresh wave of tears to my eyes. I walked into his arms, holding him tight.

"Clara, what's wrong?" he asked, his voice full of concern.

"Nothing," I whispered, clinging to him. "Just a long day. I'm so glad to be home."

As we sat down to dinner, I resolved to bury the past once and for all. Tom was part of my history, but Jack was my future. And I couldn't afford to let anything jeopardize that.

But deep down, a small voice whispered doubts, and I knew that the meeting with Tom was far from the end. It was only the beginning of a storm I wasn't sure I could weather.

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