Falling Between the Notes (Nicholas Galitzine)

Chapter 20: The Breaking Point

The plane had barely touched down in Paris, and already a strange sense of unease gnawed at my stomach. I told myself it was just nerves. I hadn't seen Nick in almost two months, and our conversations felt hollow, like we were tiptoeing around something neither of us wanted to face. But I was here to fix that. This was supposed to be a surprise, a chance to show him that distance wasn't stronger than what we had, that we could make it through. I had a few days off from the tour before heading to Puerto Rico, and I was determined to use them to reconnect with Nick.

Harry had been nothing but supportive when I told him about my plan. He always listened, always knew when to offer advice or just let me vent. Lately, I'd noticed an unspoken tension between us—leftover from the night we almost kissed—but Harry respected the boundaries, never pushing beyond friendship. I had someone I was committed to, and I wasn't about to cross that line, no matter how complicated things with Nick were.

But then why did I have this awful feeling in my gut?

The black SUV pulled up to the movie set, and I tried to push my nerves aside. The beauty of Paris flashed by—the Eiffel Tower in the distance, the smell of fresh bread and coffee wafting through the crisp air—but none of it eased the growing knot in my chest.

"Almost there, Miss Collins," the driver said in a thick French accent, pulling me from my thoughts. I nodded, unable to speak, as I gazed out at the trailers lining the street. My fingers twisted together in my lap. Was Nick going to be happy to see me? Surprised? Or had the months apart already driven a wedge between us too big to close?

As we approached the set, my stomach churned. I thanked the driver and stepped out into the chilly Paris air, a shiver running through me that had nothing to do with the cold. The set buzzed with activity—crew members hurried about, laughing and shouting instructions. A few smiled politely at me, recognizing who I was. I waved back, though my focus was solely on finding Nick.

Then, I saw it—his trailer, tucked away at the end of the lot.

And that's when everything fell apart.

Through the slightly cracked window, I saw Nick. His shirt was half undone, his head thrown back in pleasure, and across his lap was Jenna—straddling him, her movements slow and deliberate. His hands gripped her hips, guiding her, the same way he used to guide me. My stomach twisted painfully as the image burned into my brain.

For a moment, I couldn't breathe. I couldn't move. I just stood there, staring in disbelief, frozen as the reality of what I was seeing crashed into me. The man I thought I knew—the man I thought loved me—was sitting there with another woman, lost in her, as if I didn't exist.

Without thinking, I turned and bolted. My legs moved on their own, my heart pounding in my ears. Nick's voice called out behind me, desperate, pleading, but it was too late. The damage was done. The betrayal was real, and nothing he said could undo it.

"Jade! Wait!" Nick's voice faded as I reached the SUV, yanking the door open. I climbed in, gasping for air, tears blurring my vision.

"Drive," I managed to choke out, my voice shaking. "Take me to the airport. Please, just go."

The driver hesitated for a split second, his eyes flicking toward Nick running after me, but then he nodded, pulling away from the curb and leaving him behind. I slumped in the seat, hugging myself, as the sobs finally broke free. How could he? How could he betray me like that after everything we'd been through?

My phone buzzed in my lap, and I didn't even need to look to know it was Nick. His name flashed across the screen, and for a brief moment, I thought about ignoring it. But I couldn't. I needed answers. I needed to hear why.

With trembling hands, I answered.

"Jade, please," Nick's voice was frantic, desperate. "Please, you have to believe me. I didn't mean for it to happen. It was a mistake. I love you."

I squeezed my eyes shut, my grip tightening around the phone. His words felt distant, hollow, like they couldn't reach the part of me that had been shattered.

"After all the jealousy, after all the bullshit you've given me about Harry, you go and do this?" My voice shook with a mixture of anger and heartbreak. "You're the one who destroyed us, Nick. We're done."

Silence stretched across the line, thick and suffocating. I could hear his breathing, but there were no more excuses, no more promises. I hung up, tossing my phone aside as fresh tears streamed down my face.

Without thinking, I texted Harry.

Me: "I arrived at the set and found him with Jenna. We're done."

I hit send, my heart aching as the reality of those words sank in. Nick and I were over. After everything—after all the love, the laughter, the late-night promises—it was over.

The rest of the ride to the airport passed in a blur. When I boarded the plane, I collapsed into my seat, completely drained. I reached for my notebook—the one I always carried for songwriting—and began to write. The words poured out of me, raw and jagged. I wrote about betrayal, about how the man I loved had shattered me in a single moment. I wrote about trust, distance, and the lies that had slowly unraveled everything between us.

By the time we touched down in Puerto Rico, I had filled pages, but the ache in my chest remained. I walked through the airport like a ghost, the weight of what I had just witnessed hanging over me like a dark cloud.

And then I saw him—Harry—waiting for me near the exit. His face softened the moment our eyes met, and before I could even speak, I collapsed into his arms. The tears came again, uncontrollable and raw, and Harry held me tight, whispering words of comfort into my hair.

"I've got you," he whispered, his voice steady, strong. "I've got you, Jade. You're not alone."

We stayed like that for what felt like hours, his embrace the only thing keeping me grounded. And for the first time in weeks, I allowed myself to lean into him, to let him carry some of the weight. I didn't know what would happen next. I didn't know how to heal from this. But I knew one thing—Harry was here. And for now, that was enough.

The ride to the hotel was quiet, Harry's hand resting gently on my knee, offering silent support. By the time we reached my room, I felt utterly drained, both physically and emotionally. Harry opened the door for me, and the moment I stepped inside, I collapsed onto the bed, fresh tears filling my eyes.

"I don't know how to move on from this," I whispered, my voice barely audible.

Harry sat down beside me, his hand reaching out to brush a strand of hair behind my ear. His touch was gentle, comforting.

"You don't have to figure it all out today," he said softly. "You take it one step at a time. And I'll be here, every step of the way."

I looked up at him, grateful for his words, for his steady presence. But somewhere deep inside, I couldn't shake the lingering thought: What happens now?