Raymond cleared his throat, trying to steady the tremble in his chest. "Good afternoon," he began, the words feeling unusually foreign in his mouth.
Eleven lecturers watched him from their seats—eleven, including the woman who had just shaken his entire equilibrium by entering the room in that fierce ensemble, her scent still lingering in the air like a memory he hadn't buried deep enough.
Sophia Jones.
She had sat without fanfare, legs crossed, posture straight, eyes alert but distant—as though he were a stranger in the room.
Raymond forced a breath and pressed forward. "Thank you all for being here. What we've built together—this Academy—it isn't just a school. It's a bridge. A portal, if you will, between European talent and global opportunity."
He clasped his hands, letting them drop slowly as he paced. "Our vision is to create an immersive learning space where students don't just learn to perform—they learn to live their craft. Whether it's acting, writing, editing, or martial choreography, the standard we aim for is global."
A lecturer in a grey suit raised a hand. "Are the certificates recognised in Hollywood already?"
"Yes," Raymond nodded. "The six-month crash course is in partnership with major U.S. production houses. Graduates will walk out ready for real auditions and film set experiences—here or abroad."
Another hand went up. "Is the Taekwondo course compulsory?"
"No, but highly encouraged. Whether an actor is playing a romantic lead or a vigilante, they need physical awareness. Training in movement builds confidence, improves timing—and on camera, that matters."
He turned slightly to take in the whole room—and met her gaze.
Sophia.
Expression unreadable. Demeanour cool.
She raised her hand.
His pulse raced.
"Yes…" he said, almost too quickly. "Sophia."
"I wanted to ask…" Her voice was calm but carried that sharp edge he remembered too well. "Will the Academy be hiring a certified safety team for fight choreography sessions, or are we training students to manage it themselves?"
The air thinned.
Raymond blinked. She wasn't going easy on him.
He forced a composed nod. "Yes, we'll have on-site safety supervisors. But we also believe in creating self-sufficient talent. Students should be able to execute realistic stunts while understanding their limits. With expert guidance,"—he faltered—"we're confident that balance will be achieved."
Sophia didn't reply. She simply nodded once and looked away.
Raymond swallowed hard and wrapped up the session with a few more remarks, barely remembering what he said.
****
Later that afternoon…
The parking lot was mostly empty. The sun had begun to dip behind the building, casting a soft golden hue over the polished line of staff vehicles.
Raymond leaned against his car, waiting.
Waiting for her.
His hands were tucked in his pockets, but his heart was nowhere near as steady. He'd rehearsed ten different things to say. He wasn't sure any would be enough.
Then he saw her.
She moved across the lot, elegant and deliberate, heading for a sleek black coupe. She walked right past him.
"Sophia…"
She paused but didn't look at him immediately. "Hi, Raymond," she said flatly, unlocking her door.
He took a hesitant step forward. "I… I just found out from Catarina what my parents did to you. I had no idea. I'm so sorry."
Sophia turned slightly, one brow lifted. "Catarina is back? I haven't heard from her in ages. How's she doing?"
"She's getting married. To Ryan. In two weeks."
Sophia's expression softened a fraction. "That's good. Ryan is a decent man."
Raymond looked down at her hand—the one with the ring. A beautiful, gleaming band sat on her finger, mocking every second he'd spent waiting for her.
"Are you… married?" he asked carefully.
"Soon," she replied. "You're invited."
He reached out and gently held her hand, confirming what he feared. "Sophia, we need to talk. Please."
She pulled her hand back. "There's nothing left to say, Raymond."
"Of course there is!" he snapped, frustration rising. "You can't just toss me aside like I never mattered! I waited for you—every damn day. I never stopped!"
She turned fully now, jaw tight. "Last I checked, I was never in a relationship when I left the Smiths household. Or did I miss something?"
"I don't care where you went or why you left," he said. "But I will do anything—anything you want. Just don't do this. Don't marry someone else without giving me a chance."
Sophia's eyes flashed, and for a moment, emotion flickered behind them. But she swallowed it down.
"It's too late, Raymond."
She pulled away from his grip, opened her door, and slid inside.
"Wait—Sophia—"
She shut the door, started the engine, and drove off—her taillights vanishing like a closing chapter.
Raymond stood motionless for a second. Then he dropped to a crouch like a child, burying his head in his hands.
A warm hand touched his shoulder.
He looked up, startled.
It was Lawrence, the head manager.
"You alright?" Lawrence asked gently.
Raymond exhaled, still trying to compose himself. "Do you… do you know anything about Sophia?"
Lawrence nodded. "She lives here in Manchester. She's engaged to Grayson Elliot."
Raymond said nothing.
But he felt it—deep inside.
The war had just begun.