But maybe I had been chasing a dream that was already too far out of reach. Rheymond and I were like oil and water, two substances that refused to blend.
That night, as I scrolled through my homepage, Darla’s post appeared again. I hesitated but couldn’t resist the pull of curiosity.
She had posted a picture of a private jet window with the caption, [Stay tuned for my vlog at the Alps Snow Festival, darling :kiss: #AmazingTrip]
Darling was her fanclub name. But somehow, she called Rheymond by that name too.
“They even went there on Rheymond’s private jet,” I sighed, sadness lacing my words.
I wanted to read the comments, but I knew it would only hurt more. As a result, I turned off my phone and forced myself to sleep, though my mind was restless.
The next morning, I had a meeting at Rhe Company, so I got ready and headed to the basement.
I had not brought a car with me when I moved into Rheymond’s Penthouse, relying instead on his driver and my manager for transportation.
But at that time, I was back to my apartment. So, I had to rediscover my independence.
“Long time no see, my Pinky G-Wagon,” I murmured with a bittersweet smile, opening the car door. “Let’s be independent again.”