The Red String Between Us: Part III Eternal Thread

第7章 Fractures in the Spotlight

     The dining hall glimmered with candlelight, crystal glasses reflecting the chandeliers above. Eden navigated the maze of tables with careful grace, Kenji's hand occasionally brushing hers as they exchanged polite nods and greetings. But despite the veneer of poise, the atmosphere was taut, like a string stretched to its limit.

Mallory's presence lingered at the far side of the room, strategically close enough to observe but careful not to appear confrontational. Eden noticed the way she moved—every glance measured, every smile thin and calculated. The subtle cold war between them was visible only to someone paying close attention, and Eden's nerves tightened with the awareness.

"Another champagne?" Kenji asked softly, filling her glass before she could protest. His calm composure contrasted sharply with the simmering tension radiating from Mallory's corner.

Eden nodded, but she couldn't shake the way Mallory's eyes found them again and again, lingering a fraction too long on their joined hands. Each time it happened, a little spark of anxiety flared in Eden's chest, reminding her that tonight's declaration had consequences far beyond a simple public gesture.

They moved toward a table of international stakeholders, offering smiles, handshakes, and brief pleasantries. Every greeting was a performance, each conversation layered with both civility and unspoken stakes.

"Eden, Kenji," one executive said, extending a hand to both. "A pleasure. I've heard quite a lot about your recent collaborations. Incredible work."

"Thank you," Eden replied, her tone measured, eyes briefly scanning for Mallory. She caught a flash of recognition—a small nod—but nothing more. Mallory's restraint felt deliberate, almost a challenge.

As the group dispersed, Kenji leaned close, murmuring, "She's circling."

"I know," Eden said quietly, maintaining a smile for the others. "And I'm ready."

The dinner progressed, speeches and toasts weaving around them. Yet every time Eden and Kenji were caught in a candid moment—laughing, speaking, or moving through the room—Mallory's gaze seemed to follow, calculating and unyielding.

A small incident at the dessert table heightened the tension. Eden offered to help serve a plate of pastries to a neighboring table, and Mallory appeared suddenly beside them, reaching for the same dish. Their hands brushed.

"After you," Eden said politely, masking her irritation.

Mallory's smile didn't reach her eyes. "Of course," she said smoothly, but the words were thin, edged with something unspoken—a warning, perhaps, or a claim.

Kenji noticed the exchange immediately. His jaw tightened, but his expression remained composed, his hand lightly brushing Eden's back in silent support. Eden felt a rush of reassurance in that touch, even as the undercurrent of conflict grew stronger.

By the end of the night, Eden realized that the gala's glittering surface hid a storm beneath. Conversations that seemed cordial were laden with calculation. Smiles masked quiet judgments. And Mallory, poised and precise, had made it clear she was not willing to relinquish her position without a subtle, lingering battle.

Eden glanced at Kenji, her hand finding his again. "We'll get through this," she whispered.

He nodded, eyes scanning the room, a protective edge now visible beneath his calm demeanor. "We have to," he said, and Eden knew he meant more than surviving the evening—they had to maintain control of the narrative, of the image, and of each other.

Across the room, Mallory's eyes lingered once more, and Eden's pulse tightened. Tonight, Eden realized, wasn't just about declaring a relationship. It was about navigating a battlefield disguised as a gala.