Reacess

Chapter Nine

Noah looks at me, and for a moment, I see the flash of something-fear? Guilt? I don't know. "It's not what you think, Rachel," he says rapidly, but I can hear the uncertainty behind his words.

"Really?" I say, my voice is a lot sharper than I had meant it to be. "What is it, then?"

Isabella's smile widens, and there's something in her eyes that's almost predatory. "I didn't mean to intrude, but Noah and I have quite a history. It's understandable you'd be curious."

I refuse to break her gaze. "I am not being curious about anything. I just want to know what you both are talking about.

Noah steps between us, clearly attempting to diffuse the tension. "Let's not make this awkward. Isabella and I were just colleagues. There's nothing more to it."

"Of course," Isabella echoes, but there's a hint of a dare in her tone. "But you know, Rachel, sometimes the past has a way of resurfacing when you least expect it.

I feel my heart racing, a mix of anger and fear swarming in. "Is that supposed to mean something? Are you trying to intimidate me?"

"No, no," she says, her hand dismissively waving. "I'm only saying that relationships can get complicated. Especially when old feelings are involved.

Noah looks my way, and I sense a pleading in his eyes. "Let's just enjoy the evening, okay? Isabella is here for business, and we're all in this together."

"Fine," I say, attempting to sound neutral. "But you have to understand, Noah, I'm not going to act as though everything is great when you're standing beside your past.

Isabella leans in closer to me and continues in an extremely low, conspiratorial tone: "You don't have to feel threatened, Rachel. I'm here to help Noah with his project, but I can see why you'd worry since we shared a very special connection.

I feel a surge of anger at her words at the relish in my discomfort. "A connection?" I repeat, my voice elevating. "What sort of connection?"

Noah intervenes again, desperate to pull the conversation away from the edge. "It was a working relationship, Isabella. Nothing more."

"Is that so, Rachel?" Isabella says now, turning her taunting tone on me. "Do you really believe that?

I breathe deep, my hands shaking at my sides. "It doesn't matter what I believe. What does matter is what I know."

Noah's eyes narrow and I feel his frustration. "This is crazy. We are here to celebrate a new project, not stir up old history.

Then why do I feel like the only who doesn't know what's really going on?" I snap, the walls closing in tight.

Isabella leans a brow up, surveying me with an amused expression. "You're stronger than I thought, Rachel. Though strength doesn't always protect you from truth.

The words hang in the air, heavy, a bad omen. I want to shout back, to tell her she knows nothing about me, but the truth is, her words strike a little deeper than I'd like to admit.

Noah's expression shifts from annoyance to something softer, almost pleading. "Can we

It feels like an endless night, a dark tunnel where no end is in sight. I stand beside the wall in this hotel ballroom, tightly clutching my drink as my gaze falls upon Noah and Isabella. They stand too close, their laughter ringing in my ears like a heartless reminder of everything I am not.

The music swells-a lilting melody of merriment-but sinks me deeper into depression. I take a deep breath, will myself to turn away. I really should be feeling his joy-he's earned this and more-but all I can seem to focus on is how easily he smiles at her. I can't shake the feeling I'm the placeholder in his life, a distraction until something better comes along.

As the night wears on, my insecurities mount. Why am I here? I came to support him, and yet I feel like some kind of outsider looking in on a world in which I don't belong. I feel like I'm sitting there watching some movie unfold in which I have not been scripted to participate.

"Rachel?" A voice cuts through my thoughts, and I turn to find Noah approaching, his expression unreadable. "Can we talk?"

I nod, forcing a smile even as my heart races with uncertainty. What more can I say? I'm tired of pretending everything is fine, but I also can't let him see how much he affects me.

We move away from the din of the party, into silence behind a screen formed by a potted plant. The music recedes to the distance, and suddenly, it is as if the silence were deafening.

"What's on your mind?" Noah asks casually, his eyes searching.

I say nothing, kicking and screaming inside myself to bottle it all up. "I don't know, Noah. I just. I feel like you and Isabella have this connection that I'm not capable of competing with."

He snorts, shaking his head. "You're overreacting. She's just an old friend. It's nothing."

And in that dismissive tone, a chill runs down my spine. "Is it nothing? Because it sure doesn't feel that way.

Come on, Rachel, don't be paranoid," he says as exasperation edges its way into his tone. "I'm busy with work, and you know that."

I clench my fists, fighting against the wave of hurt crashing over me. "Busy with work, or busy with her?" The question hangs between us, heavy and insistent.

He growls, turning back, "Don't put this on me. I'm trying to focus on my career. You should be supporting that, instead of making it about you.

His words cut deep, and I feel the heat rise in my cheeks-a mixture of anger and sadness. This isn't how it's supposed to be. I came here to be with him, to support him, but all I feel is the growing distance between us.

I thought I was supporting you," I whisper, the vulnerability breaking through my defenses. "But maybe it's time for me to start thinking about what I want, too."

He shrugs, and the indifference in his eyes sinks my heart. "If you can't handle this, maybe you need to reassess our relationship.

It sounds like a slap in my face. This realization sweeps over me: I have been so focused on him that I lost my sight from myself. Perhaps it really is time to take a step back and think again about what I really want.