CHASING THE STARS

ly's corporate advisors drone on about the future of our empire. I cannot concentrate, especially when my thoughts continually drift back to Charlie. Not when I can still hear her voice echo

her board member, I cannot help but ponder if they even understand what they are doing anymore. We are not constructing anything of significance; we are simply upholding an illusion. Suddenly, the phone rings in my office, jolting me from

fter we hang up, I remain seated for a moment, gazing at the city skyline beyond my office window. The sun is setting, casting a golden glow that renders everything beautiful-almost perfect. But I am acutely aware that it is merely a facade. This is a mask we all don. I glance down at my phone, contemplating whether to call Charlie. Her words reverberate in my mind, challenging me to mak

uously find myself contemplating Charlie. She was not akin to these individuals; she did not engage in the game, nor did she feign interest. She wasn't attempting to sell me something or extract anything from me. This authenticity rendered her... exceptional. The night drags on and by th

ar

most immediate

als-you know how it is." There's a brief silence. I can sense her contemplation. "Do I?" I smirk to myself. She's correct; she has no idea. However, a part of me longs for her to understand. Part of me wishes she could grasp the weight of this existence. "Hey, do you want to

be t

I find myself drawn to that sense of freedom. Thirty minutes later, I reach a small, tucked-away bar situated in a quiet corner of the city. It bears no resemblance to the flashy, high-end clubs my family would typically endorse. This establishment possesses ch

say, walkin

y; she's right. I've been pretending for years, pretending that I'm fine with the expectations and the pressure. That I'm okay with being the heir to a fortune built on power and control. However, I'm not fine. I don't know how to convey this to her. "I don't know what I want anymore," I confess, my voice barely above a whisper. "I've been doing everything I was supposed to do. Play

s the whiskey or her words, but I sense a weight lifting from my chest. For the first time in ages, I feel like I'm permitted to be vulnerable. I'm allowed to acknowledge that I lack all the answers. "But what if I don't know what I need?" I inquire, averting my gaze to my drink. Charlie's tone becomes gentle. "Then it's time to discover." The night unfolds and our conversation meanders-to

mething else, too: Charlie is a spark. I'm standing on the edge of a cliff and I have no idea what might happ