⟡ Brief Encounters ⟡

⟡ 𝑪𝒉𝒂𝒑𝒕𝒆𝒓 9 - 𝑩𝒍𝒂𝒄𝒌 𝑻𝒊𝒆 𝒂𝒏𝒅 𝑩𝒓𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕 𝑳𝒊𝒈𝒉𝒕𝒔 ⟡

Harry and I suited up for the concert, donning the tuxedos that had become our second skin. Still, the palace staff fluttered around us like we'd never worn formalwear before—adjusting lapels, smoothing cuffs, perfecting creases with military precision. You'd think, after all these years, we'd have earned the right to dress ourselves.

Harry watched another aide tug at my sleeve, grinning. "The only time I've seen this much effort go into your look was for Mum's memorial. Or maybe your future wedding," he added with a smirk.

I rolled my eyes. "If that day ever comes, you're doing all the fussing. I'll sit back and watch."

"Please," he said, straightening his own cuffs with exaggerated drama. "You'll be stuck in a hundred outfit changes, and I'll personally schedule every single one."

"Remind me not to invite you."

He chuckled, tossing me a wink. "Too late. I'll be your best man and your biggest headache."

As the final touches were made and every imperfection ironed out, we headed toward the car. The walk down the corridor felt longer than usual—each step pulling the anticipation tighter in my chest.

Harry, ever the mind reader, caught it. "Blimey, Will. You're acting like you're about to propose, not just attend a concert."

"It's just a show," I replied, though we both knew it wasn't.

Waiting outside was the black Rolls-Royce Spectre, its surface gleaming like polished obsidian. Patrick, ever composed, was already inside flipping through notes.

"Full house tonight," he said crisply. "Estimated 3,901 guests. The theatre's been briefed and additional security posted."

I nodded, my gaze fixed out the window as the car slid into motion. As we approached the venue, the streetlights blurred into gold streaks. And then—flash. The paparazzi found us.

The moment the car door opened, the world exploded into a storm of lights and questions. Shutters clicked in a frenzy. Reporters shouted over one another, every voice scrambling for a headline.

And then came the one question that cut through the noise:
"Is one of you here for Jeanna?"
A sharper tone. A different kind of curiosity.

Inside, the theatre glowed warm and gold. The atmosphere was electric, vibrating with expectation. Patrick led us down the aisle to our seats—front and center. Prime viewing. No hiding.

The house lights dimmed. A hush fell.

And then, she appeared.

Jeanna stepped into the spotlight in a flowing emerald-green gown that shimmered with each breath she took. Her presence filled the room—not forced or rehearsed, just... radiant. Confident. Real. Beside her stood Roe, all easy charm and practiced charisma. My stomach twisted, unbidden.

I forced myself to breathe evenly as they began. The two of them bantered effortlessly, weaving humor and warmth between songs. The audience loved them. I could see why.

Their first duet began, voices blending in perfect harmony. The chemistry between them was undeniable. I knew it was part of the act, part of the performance—but it didn't stop that familiar sting of envy. Roe fit into her world with such ease. I was still trying to figure out if I even belonged there.

Harry leaned over and muttered, "You've got competition, mate. Might want to step up."

"Shut up," I muttered—but I couldn't help the half-smile tugging at my mouth.

And then—her eyes found mine.

Just for a second. Just long enough to undo me.

Her smile in that moment didn't belong to the crowd or the cameras. It was hers. And it was mine.

The show closed with thunderous applause, and we were quietly ushered backstage. The hum of celebration filled the narrow hallway—flowers being passed, cast members congratulated.

Jeanna emerged, flushed with post-show glow. Her eyes lit up when she saw us.

"You made it!" she exclaimed, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear, her smile brighter than any spotlight.

"Wouldn't miss it," I said, my pulse quickening.

Harry caught the tone. With a subtle nudge and a knowing look, he slipped away, leaving us alone in the energy of the moment.

She stepped closer, her voice softening. "So... dinner?"

I blinked, caught off guard. "Tonight?"

She laughed—light, musical. "Yes, tonight. You free?"

My grin answered before my words did. "I'd say it's a date."

Her smile deepened, something sparkling in her eyes that I couldn't quite name. "Perfect. Let me just change—I'll meet you outside."

As she disappeared behind the curtain, Harry popped his head back around the corner, thumbs up and smirking. "Well done, big brother."

I didn't even roll my eyes this time.
I just smiled.
Because somehow—tonight felt like the beginning of something I hadn't dared to imagine.