In between the lines

Chapter 1: cold shoulder

Charlotte's POV:

As I stepped out of the car, the bright lights of the Miss Grand Thailand preliminary event enveloped me, illuminating the excitement that buzzed in the air. Dressed in a sleek black gown that hugged my curves with an open back, I paired it with my YSL bag and matching heels, hoping to project confidence. Yet, my heart was heavy with anticipation and dread as I navigated the crowd.

When I spotted Engfa's name tag on the chair beside mine, a familiar mix of hope and anxiety washed over me. Would she greet me warmly today, or would I be met with silence? The uncertainty gnawed at me.

As I approached, I couldn't help but admire her outfit—a light pink suit tailored to perfection, the fabric shimmering slightly under the venue lights. The suit hugged her figure elegantly, while the crisp white shirt underneath added a sophisticated touch. Her brunette locks fell in soft waves around her flawlessly structured face, framing her features with gentle grace. But it was her eyes that truly captivated me—deep and expressive, sparkling with a mix of warmth and coolness. My heart skipped a beat at the sight of her, yet that warmth quickly faded as I noticed her cold expression.

Engfa was staring off into the distance, absorbed in her phone, her demeanor distant and unapproachable. I took a deep breath, summoning the courage to speak.

"Hey, Engfa," I said, forcing a smile, but my voice barely pierced the air.

Maybe she didn't hear me? Or perhaps she simply despised me? It was hard to decipher with Engfa.

She didn't respond, her focus unwavering as she scrolled through her screen. The sting of rejection washed over me, sharper than I expected. I retreated to my seat next to Aoom and Meena, who were sitting to my left, their laughter filling the space. I tried to join in, but it felt hollow. I craved that connection with Engfa—the late-night conversations, the shared secrets, the warmth of her hand in mine.

"Are you okay?" Aoom asked, her brow furrowing in concern as she noticed my silence.

"Yeah, I'm fine," I lied, brushing it off with a weak smile, but inside I felt like I was unraveling.

Memories flooded my mind: our carefree days in the U.S., holding hands while exploring the city, the laughter we shared when she teased me about my bright pink hair. It felt like a lifetime ago, and now we were mere shadows of what we once were.

As the event began, vibrant colors lit up the stage, showcasing contestants in stunning gowns. Their confidence was palpable, and slowly, Engfa shifted her focus from her phone to the stage. Yet, even as the excitement unfolded before us, she maintained that cool, detached expression, her eyes void of the warmth I yearned for.

Each performance felt like a reminder of what I was missing—the bond that had once felt unbreakable. I shifted uncomfortably in my seat, clutching my bag as if it could anchor me amidst this emotional chaos. Had I pushed her away? Was it my hesitation after her confession that had created this painful silence?

I watched Engfa closely, searching for a hint of the warmth we used to share. But each glance met with indifference deepened my sense of loss. The laughter from Aoom and Meena only heightened my longing, a stark contrast to the joy that had once flowed so freely between Engfa and me.

As the final performance concluded and applause erupted, I could barely muster a clap. My heart ached as I stole one last glance at Engfa, hoping for even a flicker of connection. But she remained focused on the stage, her expression unchanged, a haunting reminder of how far we had drifted.

Surrounded by the vibrant energy of the event, the void between us felt insurmountable. I couldn't shake the feeling that our once-bright connection was now doomed to linger in bittersweet memory.