The music was loud, the lights flickered in bursts of color, and laughter echoed in every corner of the house. Arthur and Rosie had managed to pull off a fantastic get-together. Both their friend groups mingled effortlessly, playing cards, sharing travel stories from Leh, and sipping cocktails. The air smelled of pizza, cologne, and fresh gossip.
Arthur leaned back against the kitchen counter, sipping his beer, eyes scanning the room casually—until he spotted something that didn't sit right.
James. Again.
He was standing just a little too close to Rosie. Laughing a bit too hard at her jokes. Touching her back, his hand lingering just a second longer than it should have.
Arthur's jaw clenched.
The first time he saw it, he told himself not to jump to conclusions. "Maybe he's just a tactile guy," Arthur had muttered to himself earlier. But now it was the third or fourth time.
Arthur took a deep breath and walked over to Rosie. He lightly tapped her arm.
"Can we talk?" he asked, his voice even but sharp.
Rosie raised a brow. "Now?"
He nodded. "Privately."
She followed him out to the hallway, the chatter muffled by the closed door behind them.
"What's going on?" she asked.
Arthur crossed his arms. "What's with James?"
She rolled her eyes. "He's my college friend. You know that."
"He's not acting like just a friend," Arthur replied, his tone more serious now.
Rosie laughed dryly. "Are you seriously doing this right now?"
Arthur narrowed his eyes. "You're letting him touch you like that?"
"He barely touched me."
"Are you sure you don't enjoy the attention?" he shot back.
Rosie's expression changed immediately—eyes darkened. "What the hell is that supposed to mean?"
Arthur didn't back down. "I've been watching him. He keeps finding ways to touch you. Joke with you. He's flirting with you in front of everyone, and you're not stopping him."
Rosie scoffed. "So what, you're jealous now? Possessive? Is that what this is?"
"I care about you, Rosie," Arthur snapped. "I can't just stand there while some asshole undresses you with his eyes."
Rosie took a step back. "Then maybe don't pretend to be fine with everything if you're going to throw a tantrum later."
Their fight was cut short when the sound of hooting came from the living room. James had started dancing. And Rosie… joined him.
Arthur's heart sank as he watched James move behind her, hand dropping down dangerously close to places it shouldn't be. That was it.
Arthur stormed in and shoved James back.
"What the fuck is your problem?" James shouted.
"My problem is you touching her like she's yours," Arthur growled.
"She doesn't seem to mind," James smirked.
Before anyone could say anything else, Arthur's fist connected with James' face. The music stopped. Everyone turned.
"Arthur, stop!" Rosie screamed, grabbing his arm.
Arthur pulled her away from the crowd, his grip firm. "We need to talk. Now."
But Rosie yanked her arm free and slapped him across the face.
"You've lost your damn mind!" she shouted. "I told you there's nothing going on! You humiliated me in front of everyone!"
Arthur looked stunned.
"And you know what?" Rosie said, her eyes filled with a different kind of fire. "If you think I wanted him, maybe I should just make it easier for you."
Without hesitation, she turned and kissed James—right in front of everyone. A hard, defiant kiss.
Gasps filled the room. The party died instantly. People started leaving. The house was filled with awkward tension and broken pride.
Rosie stormed off to her room, slamming the door behind her. She sat on the floor, fists clenched, heart thumping. Tears burned her eyes.
"What the hell did I just do?" she whispered, hugging her knees.
Arthur didn't go after her. He walked out. Got into his car. And drove like a man without a soul.
The city lights blurred into one another. The speedometer climbed. His head pounded with anger, confusion, and heartbreak. He stopped at a roadside bar and drank more than he should have.
Way more.
And then came the cops.
"You're under arrest for drunk driving," the officer said coldly.
Arthur didn't resist. He barely heard the words. Sitting in the cell later, everything began to settle in. The silence was brutal.
He pulled out his phone.
No missed calls.
He texted Rosie: "I'm in danger. Come to the police station."
Back at the mansion, Rosie had been curled up in bed. Her phone buzzed.
She hesitated… but opened the message.
Her eyes widened. She grabbed her coat and rushed to the police station without thinking twice.
When Arthur saw her walk in, something in him cracked.
She didn't say a word as she handled the paperwork, bailed him out, and walked him back to the car.
The silence between them was thick.
"I want to talk to you," Arthur said softly as they pulled into the driveway. "Whenever you're ready."
Rosie gave no reply. She stepped out of the car, went inside, and closed the door behind her.
In her room, she called Jane.
"I don't know what to do anymore," she whispered.
"Take a deep breath, sweetheart," Jane replied. "I'm here."
They talked for a while. Jane tried to comfort her until Rosie finally said she needed to sleep. Jane ended the call with a soft, "You'll figure it out. Just be honest with yourself."
Downstairs, Arthur poured himself a glass of water.
At the same time, Rosie walked in. They paused, seeing each other in the dim kitchen light.
No words.
Just a stare.
Arthur handed her the water.
She took it silently.
Then walked over to the living room and curled into the corner of the couch.
Arthur stayed behind, leaning on the kitchen counter.
A moment passed.
He walked over.
She didn't look up. But she felt him standing behind her.
Neither of them moved.
The silence wasn't empty anymore—it was loud.
They were in a mess.
But maybe—just maybe—they weren't done yet.