The Red String Between Us: Part III Eternal Thread

第4章 The Red Carpet

The car ride stretched longer than the clock suggested. Eden sat in the back seat, her hands folded neatly over her lap, though her knuckles betrayed her nerves with their tightness. The city outside blurred past the tinted glass—palm trees, neon storefronts, the swell of traffic funneling toward the event venue. Every few blocks, a glimpse of barricades or camera flashes reminded her of what waited just ahead.

Claire, seated beside her, squeezed her hand. "Deep breath," she whispered. "Remember—this is your moment. You decide how the story gets told."

Eden nodded, though her chest still felt constricted. She smoothed the fabric of her gown, adjusted the fall of her hair, and checked her phone one last time. A message from Kenji, time-stamped twenty minutes earlier, read only: Almost there.

The car slowed, then stopped. Outside, the low tone of voices, laughter, shouts of recognition as guests stepped out onto the carpet. Eden's driver walked around to her door, she closed her eyes, and took a deep breath. Then the door swung wide.

Light hit her first—white-hot bursts of camera flashes, relentless and blinding. The sound came next: the chorus of photographers calling her name, and journalists pressing forward with questions. Eden rose, one hand on the door for balance, her posture fluid and assured despite the tremor in her chest.

She stepped onto the carpet. Instantly, the attention swung her way, the cameras clicking faster, the questions louder. The energy was dizzying, but she kept her pace steady, her chin lifted. Stakeholders, celebrities, and government officials mingled just steps away, shaking hands and smiling for the press. This was more than an event—it was a stage, and every move she made was being recorded.

And then, another swell of gasps, shouts, a shift in the crowd's energy. Eden glanced sideways just as a sleek black car pulled up to the curb. The door opened. Kenji stepped out.

The sight of him was enough to tilt the entire evening on its axis. He adjusted his suit jacket with calm precision, acknowledging the flashing lights with a faint nod. The crowd surged forward, the photographers shouting his name, the chaos multiplying.

Eden didn't hesitate. She crossed the carpet, her gown sweeping gracefully with each step, until she was at his side. Without a word, she reached for his hand.

Kenji's eyes flicked to hers, a brief but telling look, before he laced his fingers with hers. The crowd erupted. Questions flew over each other, overlapping in a frenzy: Are you together? How long has this been going on? Is this official?

The flashes intensified as they stood side by side. For the first time, they weren't two figures orbiting the same circles—they were one image, one statement.

Kenji leaned subtly toward her, brushing a strand of hair from her face. The gesture was tender, natural, as though the cameras didn't exist at all. Eden's lips curved in the faintest smile, steady despite the storm around them.

Hand in hand, they walked the length of the carpet together. Every step was a declaration, louder than any press release or statement could ever be.

At the entrance, Kenji guided her forward, his hand still clasping hers as the doors opened to swallow them into the glow of the ballroom. Conversation quieted as heads turned. Stakeholders, dignitaries, colleagues—all eyes shifted to them.

Among the crowd, Eden's gaze caught on Mallory. She stood near a cluster of officials, her expression unreadable, but her sharp eyes followed Eden and Kenji with unflinching intensity.