Crossing lines (Noah and Aiden) novel Chapter 215

Chapter 215

“Holy shit,” I blurted out, staring at my reflection. “I look like a Disney prince.”

Lexie chuckled softly, her eyes sparkling. “You’re my prince charming,” she said, and for a brief, stunned moment, I almost laughed. The phrase felt like a costume I was forced to wear, a role that didn’t fit the man I really was—someone who didn’t belong anywhere near this glittering ballroom.

“You look absolutely stunning, Lex,” I added, trying to sound sincere.

She returned my gaze with a gentle, warm smile. “Thank you, babe.”

I meant every word. She truly was breathtaking. And that was exactly the problem. I could see her beauty clearly, but my heart didn’t respond. It was too full of someone else—someone I couldn’t forget.

Her arm slipped through mine as the photographers gathered at the marble entrance, their cameras flashing like tiny stars. “Ready?” she asked.

“Yeah,” I lied, forcing a nod.

The cameras went off in rapid succession. Lexie smiled effortlessly, radiant and practiced, while I managed to pull off something that vaguely resembled a smile—something human.

Dinner was a feast for the senses—crystal plates shimmering under the soft chandeliers, imported wine swirling in delicate glasses, dishes that looked divine but left me tasting nothing. Around us, people raised their glasses, toasting to new beginnings and bright futures. Meanwhile, I stared blankly into the reflections on my glass, wondering how a heart could keep beating when it had stopped feeling anything at all.

Leaning close, Lexie whispered, “Are you okay?”

I nodded, though the lie tasted bitter. “Just tired.”

“You’ve been so quiet all night,” she murmured.

“Sorry,” I breathed. “I’m trying. It’s just… everything feels overwhelming.”

Throughout the meal, I kept sneaking glances at my phone, pretending to check messages. I’d promised myself I wouldn’t look, but every time the orchestra shifted to a song that reminded me of him, the urge grew stronger.

I just wanted to see him. To know he was breathing somewhere beneath the same sky.

By the time dessert arrived, the atmosphere felt suffocating—the air thick with forced laughter and sparkling conversations that cut too sharply. I couldn’t bear it any longer.

“I’m just going to the bathroom,” I told Lexie quietly.

Her hand brushed mine gently. “Don’t disappear on me, okay?”

“I won’t,” I promised.

“Happy New Year, Sir,” someone wrote in the chat beneath the photo, followed by a flood of hearts and champagne emojis.

I swallowed hard, clutching my phone until my hand shook.

He wasn’t mine anymore. Maybe he never had been.

The music from the ballroom drifted faintly down the hall—countdown voices shouting numbers I couldn’t follow. I took one last look at the screen before locking it and slipping it back into my pocket, hoping that hiding it would dull the ache echoing inside me.

I straightened my jacket, adjusted my tie, and forced myself back toward the light.

Ten seconds to midnight. The crowd roared around me. Lexie reached for my hand, her smile perfect, her eyes bright with hope. I kissed her because everyone was watching, and because I didn’t know what else to do.

And as fireworks exploded outside in a riot of colors, all I could think was that somewhere across the city, beneath a different kind of light, Aiden was starting the new year with someone else kneeling at his feet.

6:17 pm

Crossing Lines