Only Just Begun

Only Love Can Break Your Heart

The dinner at Colin Gresham's mansion was moments from beginning, and tension hung in the air like a storm cloud just waiting to burst. Everything about the evening dripped with luxury and expectation, crystal chandeliers sparkled over art-filled walls, and the subtle lighting bathed the room in a golden glow, creating an atmosphere more befitting a royal gala than a casual dinner. But beneath the glittering surface, the night pulsed with an unsettling energy. Colin, the ever-charming host and celebrated Scottish actor, glided through the opulent space like a man born to be admired. Every inch of the mansion reflected his taste for the dramatic—impeccably staged, like one of his films. 

But Jerry? He didn't belong in this picture-perfect scene. He knew it the moment he stepped through the doors. He hadn't wanted to come. He still didn't. The only reason he'd agreed was for Carol. And Daniel. Sort of. But mostly Carol. Without her, he might've turned around and never looked back. Everything in this place screamed exclusion... every perfectly polished detail felt like a warning. He was a New Yorker-born systems architect who'd clawed his way into success with calloused hands and sleepless nights. He wasn't made for chandeliers and vintage wine. He was made for real things. Honest things. And nothing about Colin was honest.

He could see through the man's practiced smile and calculated compliments. Beneath the charm was a puppet master who didn't take kindly to losing control, especially not when it came to Carol. He hadn't forgotten what Colin had done, pushing her away before her trip to Scotland, twisting her emotions under the guise of protection. Being invited to this dinner didn't feel like an olive branch. It felt like a chess move.

Around him, laughter rang out—too loud, too rehearsed. Guests mingled like characters in a play, each performing their role, sipping vintage wine and exchanging inflated praise. Jerry stood at the edge of it all, a ghost in a black suit, watching the farce unfold. Daniel, ever eager to orbit Colin's spotlight, clung to his side like a satellite, laughing a little too loudly at every half-joke. And then it happened. Colin caught Jerry's gaze across the room. The actor's smile dropped, replaced by a cool, assessing stare. He returned it without blinking. "I see you, that look said. And I don't trust you one damn bit". The feeling was mutual.

— What the hell am I doing here? —Jerry muttered under his breath, shifting uncomfortably. He scanned the room again, hoping, needing, to see Carol. But she was nowhere in sight. And without her, this evening was pure torture.

He wandered through the hall, dodging forced conversations and champagne flutes, looking for anything—anyone—familiar. He passed tables laden with gourmet delicacies, porcelain plates too perfect to touch. His stomach twisted, but not with hunger. Every second that ticked by without her felt heavier than the last. He couldn't help but think back to the first night they met in this very mansion. Her eyes had pulled him in. Her words had grounded him. That memory felt like a lifeline now.

Desperate for air and sanity, Jerry slipped out of the hall and into the garden. The cool night wrapped around him like a balm. The soft gurgle of the fountain, the fragrance of blooming roses... finally, a moment of peace.

But it didn't last long. Footsteps. Soft, purposeful. He turned. And there she was.

Carol.

She moved through the garden like she belonged to it—elegant, magnetic, and entirely breathtaking in a black dress that clung to her in all the right places. But her eyes... her eyes held the same tension he felt.