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Amanda cupped Eden’s cheeks with both hands. "You are stronger than you know, darling. And you're not alone in this. I'm here for you, and I bet if you gave them a chance, the rest of the cast would be too. You just have to take that first step."
Eden nodded slowly, a tiny spark of determination kindling in her chest. She opened her mouth to respond. To tell Amanda that maybe, just maybe, she was right. But before she could speak, a sharp knock at the door made them both jump.
Eden and Amanda exchanged startled glances, the sudden intrusion shattering the intensity of their conversation. Eden's heart began to race, a mix of hope and dread swirling in her stomach. Could it be?
"I'll get it," Amanda said softly, squeezing Eden's face before rising to her feet. She moved toward the door, pausing to peer through the peephole. Eden watched anxiously as Amanda's eyes widened, her mouth forming a small 'o' of surprise.
Amanda turned back to Eden, her expression a mix of shock and something else - excitement, maybe? "It's her," she mouthed silently.
Eden felt as if all the air had been sucked out of the room. She shook her head frantically, panic rising in her chest. "I can't," shewhispered. "Mands, please, I can't face her right now. Look at me!"
But Amanda was already reaching for the doorknob, a determined set to her jaw. "You can, and you will," she said firmly. "This is your chance, Eden. Don't waste it."
Before Eden could protest further, Amanda swung the door open, revealing Genevieve Howard standing in the hallway.
Eden's breath caught in her throat. Genevieve looked . . . different. Gone was the perfectly put-together director Eden was used to seeing. Instead, Genevieve's hair was slightly dishevelled, as if she'd been running her hands through it repeatedly. Her usually impeccable clothes were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes that even her expertly applied makeup couldn't fully conceal.
For a moment, no one spoke. Genevieve's gaze moved past Amanda and locked with Eden's, and Eden felt as if she were falling all over again into the dark abyss behind those pupils.
Amanda cleared her throat, breaking the spell. "I was just leaving," she announced, grabbing her purse from where she'd tossed it on the coffee table. She shot Eden a meaningful look as she edged past Genevieve. "Remember what I said," she murmured, and then she was gone, leaving Eden and Genevieve alone.
15
GENEVIEVE
Genevieve's heart pounded in her chest as she stood in Eden's doorway. When the door finally swung open, Genevieve had been faced with someone she didn’t recognise. A sharp stab of bitter jealousy had lanced through her chest at the sight of another woman in Eden’s flat. She could only hope the woman was just a roommate, or something.
Cued by the stranger’s hesitant glance back, Genevieve’s eyes searched further inside until they landed on a familiar figure, curled up on the couch in the cluttered lounge.
Eden’s golden hair, usually so elegantly styled, hung in limp, tangled waves around her face. Her eyes, those impossibly blue pools that Genevieve often found herself lost in, were red-rimmed and puffy. Dark shadows beneath them spoke of a sleepless night. Eden was wrapped in a heavy blanket that swallowed her slender frame, making her appear smaller and more vulnerable than Genevieve had ever seen her.
The sight of Eden in such a state had Genevieve’s stomach twisting with guilt. She had done this. Her cowardice and her inability to face her feelings had reduced this brilliant, beautiful woman to a ghost of her former self.
Genevieve blinked, snapping back to reality at the sound of a throat being cleared. "I was just leaving," the unnamed woman had announced, grabbing her purse from the coffee table. She had glanced back again at Eden as she edged through the door. "Remember what I said." Then the woman had brushed past Genevieve in a swirl of tie-dyed skirts.
"Eden," Genevieve said on her outbreath, fighting to keep the tremor out of her voice. She searched for the right words, but for once in her life, Genevieve was at a loss. How could she possibly express the chaotic emotions swirling within her?
Eden said nothing, her gaze fixed on a point somewhere over Genevieve's shoulder.
Genevieve swallowed hard, forcing herself to try again. "May I come in?" she asked, hating how small and uncertain she sounded. This wasn't her. Genevieve was known throughout the theatre world for her unwavering confidence and commanding presence. Yet here she stood, practically trembling before this woman who had managed to crack open her carefully constructed walls.
For a moment, Genevieve feared Eden might refuse. But then, almost imperceptibly, Eden nodded, wrapping her arms a little tighter around her blanket-clad body.
Genevieve crossed the threshold, her eyes darting around the small flat. It was cozy and lived-in, so different from her own meticulously organized living space. Books were stacked haphazardly on every available surface, while a jumbled parade of shoes in various sizes and styles trailed from the door. This was a home shared by multiple people, clearly filled with different personalities and memories. A far cry from the almost-sterile solitude Genevieve had grown accustomed to.
She closed the door behind herself, the soft click seeming to echo in the tense silence. Eden clambered back slightly to free up room on the other end of the couch, her jumpy movementslacking their usual grace. She gestured vaguely toward the now-open space.
Genevieve sank onto the threadbare cushions, hyper-aware of the gap Eden had created between them as she curled up her legs a little further. The physical distance felt like a chasm, one which Genevieve longed to bridge, but didn't know how.
They sat in silence for what felt like an eternity, neither looking at the other. Genevieve's mind raced as she tried to find the right words. She had rehearsed this moment countless times on the journey over, but now that she was here, face to face with Eden, all her carefully prepared speeches had flown from her brain, replaced by blaring static.
Eventually, unable to bear the silence any longer, Genevieve turned to face Eden. The younger woman still wouldn't meet her eyes, staring instead at her hands, which were clasped tightly in her lap.
"Eden, I . . . I'm so sorry. I was an idiot. I never should have run from you."
The apology hung in the air between them, raw and honest, though sounding woefully inadequate to Genevieve’s ears. She held her breath, waiting to see if Eden would respond.
Slowly, Eden raised her head, her wide eyes finally meeting Genevieve's pleading gaze. The surprise in those blue pools was evident, clearly not expecting such a blunt apology from the usually closed-off director. Genevieve felt a glimmer of hope at the longing she thought she recognized in that stare. It wasn't much, but it was a start. She leaned forward slightly, desperate to maintain this fragile connection.
