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I hesitated before answering. “Happy… and scared.”
He brushed a lock of hair from my forehead. “Talk to me.”
“It’s just—everything’s moving so fast.” I sighed. “And our worlds… they’re so different.”
Cass propped himself up on one elbow, looking down at me with earnest concern. “I know there are differences, but that’s what couples do, right? Figure it out.”
The doorbell rang, slicing through our bubble like a sharp knife. Cass swore under his breath and glanced at the clock on the nightstand.
“That’ll be my driver,” he said, slipping out of bed and into his robe with an efficiency that spoke volumes about his life outside these walls—a life punctuated by meetings and schedules.
I watched him dress, each layer he put on distancing him further from the man who had held me through the night. It was like watching a transformation—the tender lover morphing into the decisive billionaire before my eyes.
“I wish you didn’t have to go,” I said quietly as he adjusted his cufflinks.
He leaned down to kiss me gently. “I wish that too. But I’ll be back before you know it.”
With one last lingering look, he was gone, leaving me alone with the echoes of our shared passion and a heart full of questions. Could we really bridge the gap between our lives? His age, his wealth, the community center demolition. What would it mean for us if we tried?
I sat up and pulled the sheets around me like a shawl, gazing out at the cityscape that seemed both beautiful and indifferent. In this high-rise sanctuary it was easy to forget my struggles—my family’s reliance on me, Brenda’s disdainful glare—but they would be waiting for me when I returned to reality.
A sigh escaped me as I considered what lay ahead—could someone like Cass truly fit into my life? Would I always feel like an imposter?
I rose from bed and wrapped myself in one of Cass’s robes that hung too long on my frame. Padded barefoot across plush carpets and navigated around sleek furniture until I found myself standing before a window that offered a panoramic view of a world that felt simultaneously within reach and worlds away.
***
The elevator’s soft ding signaled my return to reality, the doors sliding open like curtains closing on a dream. Stepping out of Cass’s penthouse, the early morning light felt harsh, a glaring reminder of the life I’d left on pause. The city hummed below, indifferent to the turmoil brewing inside me.
I hailed a cab, the leather seat cool against my bare legs, still warm from his touch. The driver glanced at me in the rearview mirror, a hint of curiosity in his eyes.
“Rough night?” he asked, pulling away from the curb.
“Just a long one,” I replied, staring out the window.
Buildings blurred into streaks of gray and brown as we drove through neighborhoods that felt worlds apart from where I’d just been. I saw mothers hurrying children to school and men in worn jackets heading to early shifts. This was my world—a world of struggle and resilience.
Arriving home, I paid the fare and stepped onto the cracked sidewalk. The door to my building creaked in protest as I pushed through, climbing the stairs that moaned beneath each step. My apartment greeted me with silence, save for the faint drip of a leaky faucet.
I shed the evening’s glamor in front of a foggy bathroom mirror. The woman staring back seemed like a stranger. How could she reconcile last night’s passion with today’s demands?
In their bedrooms, Rachel and Chad slept soundly, their peaceful faces oblivious to my inner conflict. I slipped into jeans and a faded t-shirt, trading silk for cotton—the uniform of my reality.
As I prepared breakfast, doubts swirled like steam from the boiling kettle. Could Cass really fit into this picture? His world was champagne and charity galas; mine was bills and babysitting.
My phone buzzed—a message from Cass:
“Last night was incredible. Can’t stop thinking about you.”
I smiled despite myself but quickly caught it fading as I typed a reply:
“Me too.”
Would he tire of our differences? Did he understand what being with me truly meant? Could our connection survive outside his penthouse walls?
My reflection in the toaster’s chrome siding offered no answers—just a woman caught between two lives.
***
