Escape from Mr. Whitman (Emma and Theodore) novel Chapter 7

Cecilia quickly read the room and jumped in at just the right moment. "Theo, don't let what everyone said about your wife get to you. We're all just looking out for you, you know? We've all been friends for years—maybe some of us spoke out of turn, but just let it go, alright? Don't take it to heart!"

"I'm not upset." Theodore slid his phone into his pocket. "Forget it. She's not going anywhere. Let's get back to it."

After all, for the past five years, she'd never gone anywhere except their house. She had nowhere else to go.

Jared shot Cecilia a look and mumbled, "Cici, you're a class act. If you two hadn't broken up back then…"

"What are you talking about?" Cecilia glared at Jared. "You just can't keep your mouth shut for one night, can you? Always talking nonsense! Theo's married now, that's not something you should say…"

But as she finished, her eyes softened with a hint of sadness as she looked at Theodore. "I didn't come back expecting anything. As long as you're all still willing to have me around, as long as you're here, that's enough for me…"

"Stop it with the nonsense, Cici. You'll always be our favorite. If anyone dares mess with you, the rest of us will make sure they regret it! Right, Theo?" Jared thumped his chest in a show of loyalty.

Theodore remained mostly silent, gently swirling the wine in his glass.

The scene felt achingly familiar.

Years ago, he'd been the same—watching this ragtag group joke and tease Cici, only stepping in when things got out of hand, playing the voice of reason when they looked to him.

Now, once again, all eyes were on him. He gave a small smile. "Of course."

———

Emma didn't go home.

Instead, she checked into a hotel she'd booked earlier.

All the pain and humiliation she'd bottled up exploded the moment the door clicked shut behind her.

She couldn't stop replaying the scene in her mind—Jared limping around, mocking the way she walked, everyone's laughter echoing in her ears like a curse she couldn't shake.

Theodore's friends had been talking about her behind her back for years. She knew that. She'd just never mentioned it to him.

"Every other CEO brings a classy wife to events. Only Theo shows up alone—he doesn't have anyone he can take out in public."

…

All the hurtful things she'd heard over the past five years came rushing back like a tidal wave, drowning her in their vicious undertow.

She struggled to breathe, her chest aching so badly it felt like it might split open.

With shaking hands, she unlocked a photo album on her phone—a folder she hadn't dared to open in five years. Inside were snapshots and videos from her college days: rehearsals, performances, memories of a life she'd lost.

Ever since she'd been forced to leave the stage, she'd sealed away every photo, every video of her dancing, locked behind a password she'd never used again.

Tonight, her trembling finger tapped a random video.

Music bloomed from the phone's speaker. On the tiny screen, she spun, leaped, split in the air—alive, vibrant, unstoppable.