To be her

Chapter 9

Hidden Connections

The crowd buzzed around us, a sea of laughter and movement, when Zayn abruptly stopped mid-step. His gaze landed on a man with his back turned, deep in conversation with someone. "Hey, Glanville!" Zayn called out, a smile breaking across his face.
The man turned.
It felt like a scene plucked straight from an old-Hollywood movie—the kind that makes your heart stutter and your breath catch. His light brown eyes glinted with an amused warmth, his black, messy hair casually styled as if he hadn't put in the effort but somehow looked perfect anyway. The sharp black suit he wore fit him so flawlessly, it was hard to look away.
Hold up. That's Glanville—my neighbor.
"Hi," he greeted the group smoothly, his voice deep and rich, the kind that made every word sound important. Everyone returned his greeting enthusiastically, except for me. I just nodded in acknowledgment, and he matched my silence with a subtle, unreadable smile.
Zoey, of course, couldn't hold back. She launched into a stream of praises about his paintings and how she'd attended one of his shows. He listened intently, his eyes softening with gratitude, and thanked her. "It means a lot to know my art resonates with someone," he said, his voice dipping lower with sincerity.
While they spoke, I leaned toward Jane and whispered, "Zoey's right. He really is my neighbor. But don't react now."
Jane gave me a look but nodded. "Noted. We'll talk later."
As Zayn led Zoey away to explore the garden—likely to spend some alone time—Jane, being the extrovert she was, threw herself into mingling with the crowd. I, on the other hand, slipped away to the balcony.
The stars scattered across the dark velvet sky were breathtaking, and the full moon cast its silver glow over the city. I pulled out my phone to snap a picture when a deep voice broke the silence.
"Beautiful sky, isn't it?"
I turned. Glanville was leaning casually against the balcony railing, his light brown eyes reflecting the moonlight.
"It is," I replied, startled but trying to sound calm.
"It's a full moon tonight. Always feels like it's trying to outshine the stars," he mused, his gaze fixed upward.
"Yeah, that's true," I said softly.
He turned to me then, his lips curving into a teasing smile. "So, how do you know Zayn?"
I hesitated, unsure of where this conversation was headed. "We're in the same friend group. Also, he might just be my best friend's future boyfriend," I added with a small laugh.
"Oh?" Glanville raised a brow. "Good for him."
"What about you?" I asked, meeting his gaze. "Famous artist Glanville making appearances at parties. What's that about?"
His smile turned into a smirk, and he tilted his head as if considering my words. "Was that sarcasm, or were you trying to flatter me?"
"Neither," I shot back. "I just didn't expect you to hide the fact that you're, you know, you."
"And how exactly was I supposed to bring that up?" he asked, his tone laced with humor. "Hi, I'm Glanville, the not-so-famous artist?"
I couldn't help but laugh. "Something like that."
He grinned, his smile so genuine that it felt contagious. "Well, I'll keep that in mind for next time."
"So," he asked after a pause, "what about you? What do you do?"
"I'm studying law," I replied.
His eyes lit up with genuine interest. "Really? What university?"
"Princeton."
"Impressive," he said, his voice low and sincere. "I bet you're one of those people who could argue the stars into aligning just because you willed it."
Before I could respond, I noticed movement in the corner of my eye. It was Daniel, standing across the room, his gaze locked on us.
"Did you like the flowers?" Glanville's voice drew my attention back.
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From his spot near the crowd, Daniel's chest tightened as he watched Mal and Glanville. The way they leaned toward each other, their laughter carried on the breeze—it was unbearable. He didn't even know this Glanville guy, but the ease with which he made Mal smile, the way she seemed to lose herself in the moment, it struck a nerve.
And then, there was the flower. What flower? He hadn't known anything about that. It wasn't just curiosity—it was jealousy, sharp and raw, slicing through him.
He clenched his jaw, his hands tightening into fists at his sides.
"I love you with a depth that consumes me, yet I am powerless to pull you into my world. I can only stand in the shadows, my heart breaking as I watch you laugh with him, a joy that should have been ours but never will be. " It's the quiet destruction, the slow unraveling of your heart as you watch the person you love fall for someone else. And the worst part? You have no right to stop it."
But he couldn't look away. It hurt, but he'd rather watch her be happy—even if it wasn't with him—than not see her at all. "He left with a quiet breath, a fleeting whisper of his presence, and vanished, leaving behind the ache of unspoken words.
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"Oh," I said, surprised. "Yeah, they were really cute. Thank you for them. Honestly, I'm shocked you even remembered."
He smirked. "How could I forget?"
His tone was laced with something deeper, something that made my heart skip a beat. Before I could process it, he straightened and held out his hand.
"Come on," he said.
"Where?"
"The rooftop," he replied, his smile turning mischievous. "The sky will look even better from up there. And besides, you'll get way better pictures."
I hesitated, but his outstretched hand was impossible to refuse. "Okay," I said softly, slipping my hand into his.
The stars above couldn't compare to the glint in his eyes when he looked at me.