Mr.Brightside

Chapter 53

 Jack's Determination

The clink of the chisel against wood echoed through the shop as I carefully worked on the final touches of the table. Each stroke felt purposeful, intentional. For the first time in a long time, I felt like I was creating something that mattered—not for Greg, not for anyone else, but for me. Yet, despite the pride swelling in my chest, Clara's words from last night echoed in the back of my mind.

"I feel like we're moving in different directions."

The conversation replayed over and over, each time tugging at something deep within me. I had told her that we'd figure it out, that we weren't growing apart, but what if I was wrong? Clara was diving headfirst into this new career, and while I wanted to be nothing but supportive, I couldn't ignore the feeling that our worlds were shifting.

I wiped the sweat from my brow, stepping back to admire the table. The intricate mosaic of different woods gleamed under the soft light, the inlays weaving together like pieces of a puzzle. It was beautiful. Yet, as much as I tried to focus on the craftsmanship, the doubt about Clara kept gnawing at me.

I loved her—there was no question about that. But were we drifting? Was this just the beginning of something bigger, something we couldn't come back from?

A Visit from Greg

Mid-morning, Greg stopped by the shop. He had been patient about the bookshelf, but I could tell he was getting antsy. Still, he was polite when he walked in, his eyes immediately drawn to the table.

"Wow, Jack," he said, crossing the room to get a better look. "This is... incredible."

"Thanks," I replied, wiping my hands on my apron. "It's a side project I've been working on."

Greg ran his fingers over the inlay, nodding appreciatively. "Side project, huh? You've got talent, Jack. You should be showing pieces like this off. Galleries, exhibitions... hell, this belongs in a museum."

I chuckled, shaking my head. "I'm not really the gallery type."

"Maybe not," Greg said, turning to face me. "But you've got something here. You should think about it."

I shrugged, not wanting to get into it. The truth was, I had thought about it—about pursuing my own designs more seriously. But there was always something holding me back. Maybe it was the fear of failure. Maybe it was the weight of responsibility. Or maybe it was just easier to stick to what I knew, even if it wasn't fulfilling.

Greg pulled out his phone, glancing at the time. "I'll give you some more time on the bookshelf. But don't take too long, okay? We've got deadlines."

I nodded, watching him leave, his words lingering in the air.

Galleries, exhibitions.

The irony wasn't lost on me. Clara was about to step into that world, and here I was, avoiding it.

Olivia's Curiosity

After Greg left, I found Olivia wandering into the workshop, her eyes lighting up when she saw the table.

"Daddy, it's so pretty!" she exclaimed, running her small hands over the smooth wood. "Is it done?"

"Almost," I said, smiling at her enthusiasm. "Just a few more touches."

She tilted her head, studying the table with a serious expression. "Can I help?"

I laughed softly. "Maybe next time, sweetheart. This one's a bit tricky."

Olivia pouted for a moment before perking up again. "I'm making a new picture for Mommy's show! It's going to be the best rainbow ever."

"Mommy's show, huh?" I knelt down, meeting her eyes. "Are you excited?"

She nodded eagerly. "Mommy said I can help her set everything up. There's going to be so many people!"

Her excitement was infectious, and I couldn't help but smile. "That's great, Olivia. You're going to be a big help."

As she skipped back toward the house, I couldn't shake the sense of pride I felt for Clara. This exhibition meant the world to her, and despite my own doubts, I knew I had to be there for her, no matter what.

A Decision

That evening, after Olivia went to bed, Clara and I sat on the porch, the cool night air washing over us. We hadn't talked much since our conversation about drifting apart, but the tension was still there, hanging in the space between us.

I cleared my throat, breaking the silence. "Greg came by the shop today."

Clara looked up from her sketchbook, raising an eyebrow. "Oh? How'd that go?"

"He saw the table," I said, glancing at her. "He said I should think about putting it in a gallery. Maybe even doing an exhibition."

Clara's eyes widened in surprise. "Really? That's... amazing, Jack. Are you going to do it?"

I shrugged, unsure. "I don't know. I've never really thought about it seriously."

She set her sketchbook aside, turning to face me fully. "You should think about it. You've got so much talent, Jack. You deserve to show it off."

Her words warmed me, but they also stirred something deeper. Deserve to show it off. I wanted to believe that. I wanted to believe that I could step into that world with the same confidence she had. But there was something holding me back—a fear I couldn't quite put my finger on.

"I'm not sure," I admitted, my voice quiet. "It's just... not my thing."

Clara reached for my hand, her touch grounding me. "It doesn't have to be. But don't sell yourself short. You've got something special, Jack. And if you want to take that step, I'll be right there with you."

I squeezed her hand, grateful for her support. But even as I nodded, a part of me still hesitated. Clara was growing into her own, finding her path. I wasn't sure where mine was leading me yet. But I knew one thing—I wasn't ready to give up on us.

"We'll figure it out," I said, echoing the words I had told her before. But this time, I wasn't just saying it for her sake—I was saying it for mine too. Because I needed to believe that, no matter what paths we took, we could still find our way back to each other.

Clara smiled softly, leaning her head on my shoulder. "Yeah. We will."

As we sat there in the quiet of the night, I realized that this wasn't just about work or exhibitions. It was about us—about navigating the changes in our lives without losing sight of what mattered most. And for the first time in a while, I felt a glimmer of hope.

We weren't perfect. We had a lot to figure out. But we were in this together.

And that was enough. For now.

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