20 A Cold Encounter, A Warm Reprieve
Elara’s POVO
Beck Marshall’s dismissive eyes bore into me across the bustling corridor. The cacophony of race fans faded into background noise as his judgmental gaze took me in from head to toe.
“I’m surprised to see you here,” he remarked, his voice dripping with condescension. “This doesn’t seem like your… scene.”
I stared back, my earlier vulnerability hardening into resolve. Seven years of these subtle digs and dismissals from Damien’s inner circle had worn my patience thin.
“And what exactly is my ‘scene, Beck?” I kept my voice level, refusing to shrink before
him.
He smirked. “You know, quiet charity galas, book clubs. Places where you can talk about your feelings and knit sweaters.”
“How incredibly reductive of you.” I stepped closer, no longer willing to back down. “Perhaps you should consider that people are more complex than the boxes you put
them in.”
Beck’s eyebrows shot up, clearly not expecting pushback. In the past, I would have smiled politely and retreated from his rudeness. Not anymore.
“You’ve changed,” he observed, crossing his arms. “Gotten bolder.”
“I’ve simply stopped caring what people like you think of me.”
Beck’s face hardened. “People like me? You mean people who see through your act?”
“What act would that be?” I challenged.
“The innocent, devoted wife routine. We all know you latched onto Damien for his money and status.” His voice lowered. “Vivienne never pretended to be something she’s not. That’s why everyone respects her.”
The mention of Vivienne sent a familiar pang through my chest, but I refused to let it
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“Your opinion of me was formed long before you knew anything about me,” I said coolly. “And frankly, I no longer care to change it.”
Beck scoffed, though something in his expression shifted. I wasn’t playing by the expected rules anymore.
“Whatever game you’re playing now, it won’t work,” he said. “Damien’s with Vivienne tonight, celebrating her win.”
“I’m aware,” I replied, my voice steady despite the ache his words caused. “I’m not here for Damien. I’m here with Ethan.“.
“Ethan?” Beck’s brow furrowed in confusion.
“Yes, Ethan Thorne. Victoria asked me to bring him to the race and take him home afterward.” I glanced at my watch. “Speaking of which, I should find him. We need to
leave.”
As I turned to go, Beck caught my arm. “Wait-”
I looked pointedly at his hand until he released me.
“He’s lucky to have married someone like you,” Beck said, his tone mockingly sweet. “So accommodating, running errands for his family. A perfect little housewife.”
The old Elara would have swallowed the insult silently. The new Elara didn’t have to.
“And you’re lucky to have friends who tolerate your condescension,” I replied with a cold smile. “I truly hope that works out for you.”
I walked away without waiting for his response, feeling his stunned gaze on my back. Each step felt like reclaiming a piece of myself I’d surrendered years ago.
I found Ethan waiting near the exit, his lanky teenage frame leaning against the wall as he scrolled through his phone.
“Ready to go?” I asked, mastering my tone to hide any lingering tension from the encounter with Beck.
“Yeah. Mom’s blowing up my phone.” Ethan rolled his eyes but followed me to the
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parking lot.
The drive back to the Thorne estate was quiet, with Ethan absorbed in his phone. I welcomed the silence, using the time to process my confrontation with Beck. There was a time when his opinion would have devastated me – when I desperately sought approval from anyone in Damien’s circle.
That time was over.
When we pulled up to the estate, Ethan glanced up from his phone. “Thanks for the ride, Elara. And for taking me to the race.”
“You’re welcome,” I replied, offering him a genuine smile. Despite everything, I’d always had a soft spot for Damien’s younger cousin.
Ethan unbuckled his seatbelt but didn’t immediately exit the car. “Are you coming in?”
I shook my head. “Not tonight.”
“Oh.” His stomach growled audibly, and he looked embarrassed. “I’m starving again. Mom’s probably already asleep, and I don’t want to wake the staff…”
I checked the time – nearly midnight. “Didn’t you eat at the race?”
“Just some chips,” he admitted. “I was too caught up watching.”
I hesitated, weighing my options. I should go home, but I was also hungry, having missed dinner myself.
“There’s a 24–hour diner about ten minutes from here,” I suggested. “We could grab something quick if you want.”
Ethan’s face lit up. “Really? That would be awesome!”
Twenty minutes later, we were settled in a booth at Murphy’s Diner, a cozy
establishment with checkerboard floors and vinyl seats. The place was nearly empty save for a few night shift workers grabbing coffee.
“This place has the best milkshakes,” Ethan said enthusiastically as he studied the laminated menu.
“You’ve been here before?”
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“Yeah, Damien brought me once after a late flight.” His expression turned sheepish. “Don’t tell Mom, though. She’d freak if she knew I was eating greasy diner food at midnight.”
The mention of Damien sent a familiar ache through my chest, but I pushed it aside. “Your secret’s safe with me.”
We ordered
–
a cheeseburger and chocolate shake for Ethan, a grilled cheese and coffee for me. As we waited for our food, I noticed Ethan studying me curiously.
“What?” I asked, suddenly self–conscious.
“Nothing,” he said quickly. “It’s just… you seem different lately.”
I took a sip of my water. “Different how?”
Ethan shrugged. “I don’t know. More… yourself, I guess?”
His unexpected insight caught me off guard. Before I could respond, our food arrived, momentarily distracting us both.
“This looks amazing,” Ethan declared, immediately taking a large bite of his burger.
I smiled at his enthusiasm and bit into my grilled cheese. The comfort food was exactly what I needed after the emotionally draining evening.
“Sorry you had to miss dinner because of me,” Ethan said between bites.
“It’s fine. I wasn’t very hungry earlier anyway.”
Ethan nodded, then surprised me by asking, “Are you okay, Elara? Like, really okay?”
The question was so sincere it momentarily disarmed me. When was the last time someone had genuinely asked about my well–being?
“I’m getting there,” I answered honestly.
“Good.” Ethan seemed satisfied with my response. “You deserve to be happy.”
His simple statement touched me deeply. “Thank you, Ethan. That means a lot.”
We finished our meal in comfortable conversation, with Ethan telling me about his
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college plans and asking my opinion on various majors. It struck me that this teenager was showing me more genuine interest than my husband had in years.
After paying the bill – I insisted, despite Ethan’s protests – we headed back to the car. The night air was cool and refreshing, clearing my head.
“That was awesome, Ethan said as he buckled his seatbelt. “Thanks, Elara.”
“Anytime.” And I meant it.
The drive back to the Thorne estate was peaceful. When I pulled up to the entrance, Ethan turned to me before getting out.
“You know, you’re pretty cool,” he said with the earnest sincerity only a teenager could muster. “I wish I’d gotten to know you better before.”
“It’s never too late,” I replied with a smile. “Goodnight, Ethan.”
“Night, Elara.”
I watched him enter the house safely before driving away, feeling lighter than I had all evening. The interaction had been a balm to my wounded spirit after the confrontation with Beck and the pain of seeing Damien celebrating with Vivienne.
As I drove home through the quiet streets, Ethan’s words echoed in my mind. I deserved to be happy. For too long, I’d tied my happiness to a man who couldn’t – or wouldn’t – reciprocate my feelings. It was time to find joy independently of Damien
Thorne.
The thought was both terrifying and liberating.
My phone buzzed with a text message. It was from Ethan:
“Thanks again for tonight. You’re awesome.”
The simple message brought a genuine smile to my face. In a world where I often felt invisible, it was nice to be seen, even if just by a kindhearted teenager.
Little did I know that back at the Thorne estate, Ethan was thinking about our evening as he prepared for bed. His mind wandered to the sadness he occasionally glimpsed behind my smiles, the quiet dignity with which I carried myself despite everything.
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“What a wonderful person,” he thought to himself as he drifted off to sleep. “It was just
a pity that Damien Thorne didn’t feel the same way about her. What a shame.”
