Mr.Brightside

Chapter 79

Clara's Ambition

The buzz of activity filled the school as I stepped inside. It was still early, but the contractors were already hard at work. The sound of hammers, drills, and the occasional shout echoed throughout the hall, but instead of being overwhelming, it filled me with a sense of purpose.

Today marked a significant milestone—everything was finally coming together. The classrooms were taking shape, the art studios were almost finished, and the wide gallery space at the center of the school was starting to look like the hub of creativity I had envisioned for so long.

I walked down the hallway, passing by a group of workers installing windows that would allow natural light to flood the painting studio. My mind raced with plans—workshops, exhibitions, partnerships with local artists. It all felt so real now, and the excitement was electric.

But beneath that excitement, there was also the constant hum of anxiety. Jack had been supportive, of course, always there with encouraging words and a calm presence. But I could sense something was weighing on him. He'd been spending more and more time in his studio, and while I knew he was working on something important, I couldn't shake the feeling that something was off between us.

"Ms. Clara?" one of the contractors called, pulling me from my thoughts.

"Yes?" I turned to face him, forcing a smile as I pushed the worries about Jack to the back of my mind.

"We've finished setting up the new kiln for the ceramics studio. Do you want to take a look?"

My eyes lit up. "Absolutely! Let's see it."

I followed him down the hallway to the ceramics room. When I stepped inside, the new kiln sat proudly in the corner of the studio, its sleek design a far cry from the old, outdated equipment I had used during my early teaching days. I could already picture students gathering around, shaping clay, learning the tactile beauty of creating something with their hands.

"This is perfect," I said, nodding with satisfaction. "We're on track for the soft launch next month."

The contractor smiled. "Glad to hear it. We'll make sure everything is in place for the opening."

As I thanked him and walked back toward the main gallery, my phone buzzed in my pocket. I pulled it out and saw a text from Jack.

Jack: "Thinking of heading out to the lake this weekend. You in?"

I stopped in my tracks, staring at the message. The lake. Our spot. It had been months since we'd been there together—months since we'd really taken time to just be with each other without the weight of everything hanging over us.

I leaned against the wall, my mind racing. As much as I wanted to spend time with Jack, the weekend was booked solid with meetings and final preparations. I was supposed to meet with a group of potential investors on Saturday, then there was a meeting with the head of the local artist collective on Sunday. If I backed out now, it would throw everything off track.

But Jack...

I stared at the message for a long moment, feeling the pressure building in my chest. I wanted to be with him. I needed to. But how could I step away now?

I typed out a response, my fingers hesitating over the keys.

Me: "I can't this weekend. I've got too much to do at the school."

I hit send, my stomach sinking as soon as I saw the little check mark appear next to the message. A part of me expected him to respond right away, to say it was okay, that he understood. But minutes passed, and there was no reply.

I slipped the phone back into my pocket, biting my lip as I turned back to the work in front of me. This was the choice I'd made—committing to the school, to the dream. Jack would understand that. He had to.

Right?

Widening Distance

The next few days passed in a blur. I threw myself into work, making sure every detail was in place for the soft launch of the school. Jack and I spoke in brief texts and exchanged quick phone calls, but the distance between us felt wider than ever.

By Friday, I couldn't take it anymore. After a long day of meetings, I drove straight to Jack's studio, hoping to find him there. When I arrived, the smell of sawdust and varnish greeted me, but Jack wasn't at his workbench. Instead, I found him sitting by the window, staring out into the darkening evening.

"Hey," I said softly, stepping inside.

He turned to look at me, and for a moment, I saw the flicker of surprise in his eyes. "Hey," he said, his voice quiet.

I walked over to him, leaning against the edge of the window ledge. "I've missed you," I admitted, the words slipping out before I could stop them.

Jack smiled faintly, but there was a heaviness in his expression. "I've missed you too."

We stood there for a moment in silence, the weight of unspoken things hanging between us. Finally, I broke the silence.

"I've been so wrapped up in everything," I said, staring down at my hands. "The school, the launch... it's all happening so fast, and I feel like I'm barely keeping up. But I don't want to lose you in the process."

Jack didn't say anything for a moment, and when he finally spoke, his voice was steady, but there was a hint of something deeper—something I couldn't quite place.

"You won't lose me," he said. "But I think... I think I need to figure some things out on my own too."

I looked up at him, my heart sinking. "What do you mean?"

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I've been thinking about what you said—about being part of the school, teaching workshops. And I love the idea of supporting you, of being there with you. But the truth is, I don't know if that's what I want."

The words hit me like a punch to the gut. "You don't want to be part of the school?"

"It's not that," he said quickly. "It's just... I need to figure out my own path, Clara. I've been in this space, working on projects, but I haven't felt connected to any of it lately. And I don't want to lose myself in this process either."

I stared at him, struggling to understand. "So, what does that mean for us?"

Jack met my eyes, and I could see the conflict there—the love, the uncertainty, the fear. "It means I need some time. I need to figure out what I want, separate from everything else."

A lump formed in my throat, and I nodded, even though it felt like my heart was shattering. "Okay," I whispered.

He reached out, taking my hand. "I love you, Clara. But I need to find my own way, just like you're finding yours."

I squeezed his hand tightly, blinking back the tears that threatened to spill over. "I love you too."

We stood there, holding each other in the quiet of his studio, the weight of the future pressing down on both of us. And in that moment, I realized that no matter how much I wanted to control the outcome, sometimes you have to let go.

Let go, and trust that whatever is meant to be will find its way back.

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1200 words