It had been a week since James last saw Daisy, days filled with restless nights and memories that wouldn't let him go.
That night sparkled perfectly from the top of the skyscraper. The city lights stretched out below like a sea of fallen stars scattered across the earth, their reflections shimmering on the massive glass windows of the grand ballroom.
James stood in the middle of the crowd but felt completely detached from the celebration around him. Soft jazz music floated through the air while bursts of laughter echoed from every corner. The rich scent of expensive perfume mingled with the sharp aroma of wine, saturating the atmosphere.
His company had just shattered records once again. For two consecutive years, it had been crowned the number one in its field. Everyone was here to honor that success, to toast and to revel. Everyone but James.
Mike, his closest friend and trusted right-hand man, stepped up beside him and gave his shoulder a firm pat. "Thinking about her again, huh? Can you just stop obsessing over that damn woman who tore your heart apart?" Mike's voice carried a mix of irritation and genuine concern.
James lifted his eyes, locking a sharp gaze onto Mike. "I'm not thinking about her," he said flatly, eyes steady, refusing to waver.
Mike let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Come on, James. You've been a walking ghost for a week now. Everyone can see it. No use pretending."
James raised his glass slowly and drank the bitter liquid in one smooth motion, the sharp taste burning down his throat. His eyes wandered around the room. Tailored suits glistening under the lights, sequined gowns swaying, smiles that felt rehearsed and hollow, and countless hands shaking with quiet calculation.
Then, the faint click-clack of high heels broke through the noise. The steps were deliberate, confident, demanding the attention of everyone nearby.
From across the room, a woman in a deep red gown approached. The slit along the side of her dress revealed flashes of smooth skin with every step she took, while her eyes held a silent declaration that the entire world was hers for the taking.
She was Darcy, the daughter of the owner of a massive corporation. One of James's biggest business partners. Her lips curved into a thin, practiced smile that barely masked its insincerity.
Without a hint of hesitation, her hand snaked around James's arm, clinging as though he belonged to her.
"James," she purred in a teasing tone, "you never told me this party would be so boring."
Mike glanced over with a raised eyebrow, reading the tension in the room perfectly.
"Darcy," James muttered, his voice a mixture of surprise and mild annoyance
The scent of her perfume, a mix of roses and something sharper, hung thickly between them. "Your company broke the record again. Congratulations," she said softly, her voice smooth but carrying an unspoken challenge.
Mike chuckled low beside them, eyes sparkling with knowing mischief. "Look at her. This is the kind of woman you should be chasing, James. Not some ghost from your past."
James gave a polite nod but his gaze was distant, clouded by memories of a pair of eyes he had not been able to forget. The eyes of Daisy from just a week ago.
Darcy's voice dropped to a whisper as she glanced around the room and leaned closer. "My father has been asking when we are going to get engaged."
James turned, raising an eyebrow in disbelief. "Engaged? Since when did we even talk about that?"
Darcy pouted sulkily, but her eyes held a cold gleam of ambition and calculation. "We have been together for over a year, James. Isn't it time? You and I could be power couple. Imagine it: wealth, influence, children born to rule."
James let out a long sigh, staring at the floor as if searching for strength that was slipping away.
James rubbed his face wearily, frustration bubbling beneath his skin. "I never said I wanted to get married."
Mike cut in sharply, dry and biting. "So what, you want to rot alone? Become a bitter old bachelor?"
"Maybe," James answered curtly, the word weighted with tired resignation.
Darcy froze, lips parted in shock before she drew a sharp breath and gripped James's arm tighter, pressing herself close to his suit as if staking a claim.
Mike exhaled slowly, eyes locking with James's. "Forget that damn woman who left you. She is not worth your time."
Darcy blinked, caught off guard. "Woman? Who are you talking about?"
Mike smirked, voice low and laced with bitter irony. "You would not believe it if I told you James was ever left behind. Back before he was the man he is now, she walked away without a backward glance."
Darcy's eyes flicked to James, searching for a reaction but he said nothing. Mike pressed on, tone almost cruel. "Last week, we went to one of James's clubs. There she was, working as a waitress. Can you imagine? The woman who broke his heart, now serving drinks. Life's twisted joke."
Darcy's laugh was cold and venomous. She leaned in, voice dropping to a razor whisper that cut through the hum of the party. "No way. She is probably selling herself to desperate old men now, huh?"
Mike nodded, a dark chuckle escaping him.
James stayed silent, jaw clenched tight as if it might break. Beneath his calm exterior, a storm raged. Rage, pain, humiliation all twisting inside.
Suddenly, he slammed his glass on the table with a loud thud. Heads turned. The air shifted.
"Enough," he growled, voice low and dangerous.
Mike raised an eyebrow, amused yet intrigued. "What? I'm just stating facts."
Darcy leaned forward, her smile venomous but practiced. "James, I'm only trying to protect you from wasting your time."
"I said enough, Darcy." His voice cut her off cold and final. The room seemed to hold its breath in that moment.
Darcy froze, unused to such blunt rejection. Slowly her hand slipped from James's arm.
"Why do you defend her? That woman left you. She did not deserve you."
James's gaze pierced her, sharp and haunted. "You don't know a thing about her. Don't pretend you do."
Mike looked at James, disbelief clear in his eyes. "Man, you still love her?"
James did not answer. He drained his glass, the burning liquid sliding down his throat, then turned sharply and walked away.
Darcy watched his retreating back, jaw clenched with frustration and something darker. Jealousy.
"I want her gone. Completely," she said quietly but deadly.
The glittering party lights flickered on, but for James, the night grew impossibly dark.
James stood alone near the floor-to-ceiling windows, the city lights sprawling endlessly beneath him like a sea of shattered dreams. Inside the party, laughter and clinking glasses echoed faintly, but none of it reached him. His mind was a prison, locked tight with memories he couldn't shake.
Mike approached silently, leaning against the window frame beside him. "You've been dead in the water for days, Jam," he said, voice low but firm. "You gotta stop holding onto ghosts."
James didn't look at him. "It's not that simple."
Mike let out a dry chuckle. "Since when did anything worth feeling come easy? You gotta stop living in the past like it's some damn safe place. It's a trap."
James clenched his jaw, his fingers tightening around the glass in his hand. "She left. Walked out when I needed her most. How do you just forget that?"
Mike studied his friend for a long moment, then said, "You don't forget. You don't erase what she did. But you can stop letting it eat you alive."
James said nothing, eyes fixed on the cityscape.
Mike scoffed. "Look, you're killing yourself over someone who's probably sipping cheap wine in some dive bar right now, wondering what she lost."
The silence hung heavy between them. James's eyes flickered with pain and something else... hope, maybe, buried deep beneath the hurt.
Mike continued, voice softening, ""You're way too good for her now . You're James. The guy who built everything from scratch. Don't let some heartbreak steal your soul."
James finally met Mike's gaze, raw and honest. "I'm scared, Mike. Scared if I let go of her, I'll lose the part of me that's still worth fighting for."
Mike smiled, nodding slowly. "You won't lose yourself. You'll find yourself. And trust me, that version of you is way stronger."
James took a deep breath, the weight in his chest easing just a fraction. "Maybe you're right."
Mike clapped him on the shoulder. "Damn right I am. Now, let's get you back in that party before they start wondering if you're alive or dead."
James chuckled, the first genuine sound in days, and for the first time in a long time, he felt the tiniest spark of moving forward.