"...Viv."
"...Vivienne."
"Hm?"
Vivienne Beaumont looked up from the slice of tiramisu she had been absentmindedly poking with her fork.
Across the round table, Chloe wasn’t paying attention to the conversation anymore. Instead, she subtly pointed toward the bar.
"Three o’clock."
Vivienne blinked.
"What?"
"The man."
Curiosity got the better of her.
She turned ever so slightly.
A tall man in a charcoal-gray suit had just ordered a drink.
Neatly styled black hair.
Broad shoulders.
Long fingers resting against the counter.
The kind of face that made women sneak a second glance without meaning to.
Vivienne stared for exactly three seconds.
"..."
"Oh my God."
Chloe burst into laughter.
"You got butterflies."
"I did not."
"You did."
"I was simply appreciating good genetics."
"Oh? Is that why you’re smiling?"
Vivienne instinctively touched the corners of her lips.
"...I’m smiling?"
"You’ve been smiling for the past ten seconds."
Vivienne quickly looked away and hid behind her wine glass.
"...Well..."
"He is handsome."
"There it is."
The four women laughed together.
Girls’ night had become a monthly tradition ever since university.
Good food.
Good wine.
Good desserts.
And conversations that somehow always found their way back to romance.
Mostly because Vivienne was there.
She adored romance.
Hopelessly.
Unashamedly.
She believed flowers were still romantic.
She believed handwritten letters were infinitely sweeter than text messages.
She believed every woman deserved to be pursued at least once in her life.
And grand gestures?
She had an embarrassingly soft spot for them.
"Still reading romance novels?" Isabelle asked.
Vivienne looked up innocently.
"...Maybe."
"How many this week?"
"..."
"...Five."
"Vivienne!"
"What?"
"They help me relax."
"They’re addictive."
"They’re educational."
"They’re fiction."
Vivienne smiled.
"Reality could learn a thing or two."
The laughter slowly faded.
Someone refilled their glasses.
Then Chloe gently asked the question everyone had carefully avoided all evening.
"So..."
"How are you really doing?"
Vivienne immediately knew what she meant.
The breakup.
Three months had passed.
Long enough for everyone to assume she had already moved on.
She slowly swirled the wine inside her glass.
"I’m okay."
"You sure?"
"Mhm."
She smiled.
"I really am."
And she wasn’t lying.
She didn’t hate him.
She doubted she ever could.
Eight years wasn’t something people simply erased.
He had been kind.
Dependable.
Patient.
He remembered birthdays.
He remembered anniversaries.
He never forgot to ask whether she’d eaten.
He loved her.
She loved him too.
Until one day...
The relationship simply stopped growing.
There had been no betrayal.
No shouting.
No dramatic scene in the rain.
No third person.
One day they simply realized...
They had become companions more than lovers.
Comfortable.
Familiar.
Peaceful.
And somehow...
That made saying goodbye even harder.
Chloe quietly leaned forward.
"Can I ask you something?"
Vivienne nodded.
"Go ahead."
"If..."
Chloe searched for the right words.
"If he’d shown up outside your apartment..."
"...with flowers..."
"...or chased after you before you left..."
"...or made one ridiculous grand gesture straight out of one of your romance novels..."
"...would you have gone back?"
Vivienne didn’t answer immediately.
She looked into her wine.
A tiny smile appeared.
"...Probably."
The table fell silent.
Vivienne laughed first, covering half her face.
"See?"
"That’s exactly my problem."
She shook her head.
"If he’d just looked at me and said..."
She smiled to herself.
"’Don’t go.’"
"..."
"I probably would’ve melted."
Her friends exchanged helpless looks.
"You really are impossible," Isabelle sighed.
Vivienne laughed.
"I know."
"No."
Chloe smiled fondly.
"You’re just hopelessly romantic."
Vivienne rested her chin on one hand.
"...Maybe."
"No maybe."
"You’ve been like that since we were teenagers."
Vivienne didn’t argue.
Because it was true.
She always believed love should make your heart race.
That it should make people brave enough to embarrass themselves.
That sometimes...
Love deserved a little drama.
She knew reality wasn’t like the novels she read.
She knew that.
Still...
A tiny part of her couldn’t help wishing...
Just once...
Life would feel like one.
Nearly an hour later, the dinner came to an end.
The four women hugged outside the restaurant before heading their separate ways.
Vivienne’s driver was already waiting beside the car.
"Good evening, Miss."
"Good evening."
He opened the rear door for her.
She slipped inside and leaned against the window as the city lights drifted past.
Her phone buzzed.
A message from Chloe.
Read one less romance novel before bed tonight.
Vivienne smiled.
Impossible. My emotional support male leads are waiting.
A laughing emoji appeared almost instantly.
She chuckled to herself.
Maybe Chloe was right.
Reading romance novels immediately after a breakup probably wasn’t healthy.
...
She was still going to do it.
Nearly forty minutes later, the car entered the gates of the Beaumont residence.
The modern estate stood quietly beneath warm lights.
Glass.
Stone.
Clean lines.
Elegant without being excessive.
Just the way her mother liked it.
Home.
"Good night, Miss."
"Good night."
Vivienne stepped inside, greeted the house staff with a smile, then made her way upstairs.
After a warm shower and an unnecessarily elaborate skincare routine, she climbed onto her bed carrying her favorite companion.
A novel.
Or rather...
Season One of a five-season bestselling romance series.
The Duchess’s White Moonlight.
She had lost count of how many times she’d reread it.
Some people rewatched their favorite television series.
She reread her favorite romance.
Smiling, she opened to one of her favorite Chapters.
Anthony Ashford.
The male lead.
Reserved.
Dependable.
Ridiculously devoted once he finally fell in love.
The kind of fictional man capable of making readers question their standards.
Vivienne certainly wasn’t immune.
She smiled.
"Anthony Ashford..."
"You’re still the standard."
She turned another page.
"And Evelyn..."
A soft laugh escaped her.
"You lucky, lucky girl."
She honestly couldn’t blame her.
If someone like Anthony existed in real life...
She probably would’ve fallen for him too.
Then she reached the next Chapter.
Her eyes settled on another familiar name.
Vivienne Beaumont.
"My namesake."
She tapped the page lightly.
"What were you doing?"
"You had beauty."
"You had status."
"You were already his fiancée."
"You had such a good starting point."
She rested her chin on the book.
"Honestly..."
A small smile tugged at her lips.
"I would’ve chased him too."
"Just..."
She thought about Anthony Ashford’s personality for a moment.
"...a little differently."
Anthony wasn’t the type who’d fall in love because someone demanded his attention.
He was the type who slowly noticed the person who had always been beside him.
Vivienne smiled dreamily.
"I’d make you look at me until you couldn’t look away."
She hugged the book against her chest.
"Then I’d let you fall in love all by yourself."
She smiled dreamily.
"...Too bad that’s never going to happen."
A yawn escaped her.
She placed the book on her bedside table and switched off the lamp.
Within minutes...
Vivienne Beaumont drifted peacefully to sleep.
Completely unaware...
That when she opened her eyes again...
Anthony Ashford would no longer belong only to the pages of a novel.