Mr.Brightside

Chapter 52

 Clara's Doubt

I watched Jack with growing admiration over the next few days. The table he was working on was stunning—a masterpiece in the making. The intricate woodwork, the way he poured himself into it... it was like watching him rediscover a part of himself he'd buried beneath the weight of responsibility. And seeing him with Olivia, guiding her in her own little projects, reminded me of the Jack I had fallen in love with—the one who could balance passion with the simple joy of being present.

But as proud as I was of him, a nagging feeling crept into the back of my mind: Where did that leave me? I had my own path now, and I wasn't sure how Jack and I would fit together in the future.

Ethan's calls were becoming more frequent, the project growing faster than I expected. We had our first exhibition lined up, and while the excitement should've been exhilarating, I felt a strain building. Each step I took into this new world felt like it was pulling me further from the life I'd known, the life I'd built with Jack.

The Exhibition Looms

"Clara, this is going to be a huge success," Ethan had said during our last call. "The gallery loves the concept, and we've got critics already lining up to attend. It's happening."

I couldn't help but smile at his enthusiasm. His confidence was infectious, and I needed that energy more than ever. But behind the excitement was a deep uncertainty. Jack was making strides of his own, but it felt like we were growing in parallel lines, never intersecting.

I was scared.

At dinner, Jack brought up the table again. His eyes lit up as he talked about the progress he was making, the satisfaction of crafting something that was entirely his own. I smiled and encouraged him, but inside, I felt more distant than ever. I wanted to share in his joy, but I couldn't shake the feeling that my own life was moving in a direction that didn't quite fit with his.

Later that evening, as we lay in bed, Jack turned to me, his voice soft in the dark. "You've been quiet lately. Are you okay?"

I hesitated, unsure of how to put my swirling thoughts into words. "I'm just... thinking about the exhibition. It's coming up so fast."

He shifted closer, his hand resting on my arm. "You'll be amazing. I know it."

"I hope so," I said, my voice barely above a whisper. But it wasn't just about the exhibition. It was about us. The more I moved forward with my work, the more it felt like there was a widening gap between our lives.

Jack kissed my forehead. "I'll be there, you know. Supporting you every step of the way."

I smiled at him in the dark, grateful for his support but unable to shake the doubt creeping into my heart.

A Conflicted Heart

The next day, Ethan came by the house to go over final plans for the gallery. I was nervous—excited, but nervous. This was the first time I'd worked on something of this magnitude, and while I trusted my vision, I couldn't help but wonder if it would resonate with others the way it resonated with me.

As Ethan walked through the studio, studying the nearly completed pieces, he smiled at me. "This is it, Clara. You've outdone yourself."

His praise should've been enough. It should've filled me with pride. But as much as I appreciated Ethan's validation, it wasn't Jack's. And that realization hit me like a ton of bricks.

"You really think it's ready?" I asked, trying to keep the tremor out of my voice.

Ethan nodded, his gaze softening. "More than ready. You're going to blow them away."

I should've felt confident. But the doubt inside me only grew. I glanced out the window, wondering where Jack was. Wondering if he would really understand what this project meant to me, and whether our paths could still converge.

A Moment of Clarity

That night, after Ethan left, I wandered out into the backyard, feeling the cool evening breeze wash over me. Jack was in his workshop, the soft glow of light spilling out through the windows. I could hear the rhythmic sound of his tools, the satisfying thud of wood meeting wood as he worked.

I stood there for a long time, just watching him. He was so focused, so at peace. This was where he belonged, doing what he loved. I envied that clarity. While Jack had rediscovered his passion, I was still searching for something, unsure of where my path would lead me.

I stepped into the workshop, the smell of sawdust immediately grounding me. Jack looked up, smiling when he saw me. "Hey, come to check on the progress?"

I smiled back, leaning against the doorframe. "Something like that."

He wiped his hands on a rag, coming over to me. "What's going on?"

I took a deep breath, trying to find the words. "I'm proud of you, Jack. This table... it's incredible. You've found something that makes you happy, and that's amazing."

He tilted his head, studying me. "But?"

"But I feel like we're moving in different directions." The words tumbled out before I could stop them, and once they were out, I couldn't take them back. "I'm scared that the more I focus on my career, the more I'm pulling away from you. From us."

Jack was quiet for a long moment, his eyes searching mine. "Clara, I'm not going anywhere. Just because we're both growing doesn't mean we're growing apart. We've been through a lot together, and I'm not going to let something like this pull us apart."

I swallowed hard, the lump in my throat making it difficult to speak. "I don't want to lose you."

"You won't," Jack said softly, his hands resting on my shoulders. "We'll figure this out. Together."

I nodded, leaning into him, the weight of my doubts still lingering but lightened by his words. I wanted to believe him, to trust that we could make this work. But as the exhibition loomed closer and my career took center stage, I couldn't shake the feeling that something fundamental was shifting between us.

And I wasn't sure how to stop it.

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