Chapter 38: Just Dinner?

Alistair's mood remained somber, but instead of heading home, he drove to the Arts Center on the other side of the city.

He knew that Clara was holding a solo dance performance tonight, and she hadn't invited him.

Despite this, he decided to go.

Perhaps her dancing could help him temporarily forget the troubles plaguing his mind.

The Arts Center was brilliantly lit, and a crowd had already gathered at the entrance.

Alistair parked his car in a nearby lot, donned his sunglasses, and entered the lobby discreetly.

He hadn't purchased a ticket in advance, but with his status, he naturally had ways to get in.

The staff recognized him and immediately, with deep respect, led him to the VIP section.

The stage lights gradually dimmed, and the auditorium fell silent.

Alistair sat in his seat, his eyes fixed intently on the stage.

He knew that Clara’s dancing was renowned for its delicate emotion and exquisite technique, and tonight’s performance was the culmination of months of preparation.

The emcee stood on stage to announce the piece:

Solo Drink Under the Moon.

In the center of the stage, a beam of soft moonlight fell. Dressed in a white gauze skirt, Clara appeared ethereally within the light.

The hem of her skirt drifted with her movements, like a white lotus in full bloom.

Her makeup was elegant and light, her features like a painting; she radiated a cold, graceful aura.

The music began slowly—a duet of guqin and xiao, melodious and otherworldly.

Clara’s movements unfurled with the rhythm. Every turn and every leap was a perfect blend of strength and grace.

Her arms were as supple as willow branches, yet in certain moments, they exploded with startling power, as if narrating an inner struggle and longing.

Alistair couldn't take his eyes off her. He knew that her dancing wasn't just a display of skill, but a venting of emotion.

Every movement seemed to tell a story, and tonight’s story seemed to be about solitude.

On stage, Clara appeared isolated from the world. Her gaze was hollow yet deep, as if searching for something forever out of reach.

Her posture was sometimes as light as the wind, sometimes as heavy as a mountain, expressing an unspeakable emotion.

Alistair’s heart was gradually drawn in by her dance. He had never seen this side of Clara; her movements were filled with such loneliness and helplessness, as if she were confessing something to him.

His mood grew more complex; his original irritation was replaced by an indescribable emotion.

As the music reached a crescendo, Clara’s dance reached its climax.

Her movements grew faster, as if chasing something she could never catch.

Her skirt carved graceful arcs through the air. She looked like a spirit under the moon—beautiful yet fragile.

Suddenly, the music stopped. Clara’s movement froze instantly.

She stood in the center of the stage, tilting her head slightly as if gazing at a distant moon.

Her eyes were filled with longing and resignation, as if whispering her secrets to the night sky.

Thunderous applause erupted from the audience, but Alistair remained silent.

His gaze was locked on Clara, his determination to have her only growing stronger.

The music started again, this time a low and slow melody.

Clara’s movements became soft and lingering, as if saying a long goodbye.

Her dance remained beautiful, but a sense of relief had entered her eyes.

She slowly retreated to a corner of the stage, finally vanishing into the darkness.

The stage lights faded, and the audience erupted in applause once more.

When the performance ended, Alistair didn't leave. He went straight backstage.

He knew Clara would be there.

Sure enough, he found her at the door of the dressing room.

Clara had already changed out of her costume. Wearing a simple white dress, she sat before the mirror removing her makeup.

Alistair stood in the doorway, watching her quietly. His heart was still heavy with complex feelings, but now, a trace of tenderness had emerged.

He said softly, "Your dance was beautiful."

Clara’s hand paused for a moment before she continued. Without looking back, she said tonelessly, "Thank you."

Alistair walked into the dressing room and stood behind her, his gaze meeting hers in the mirror.

"Tonight’s dance... it seemed different from before."

Clara finally stopped what she was doing and looked up at Alistair’s reflection.

Her eyes were still cold, but they carried a hint of exhaustion.

"Dance is the release of emotion. Tonight’s performance was merely an internal monologue."

Alistair was silent for a moment. He whispered, "Your dance was full of loneliness and helplessness. It seemed like you had a lot to say."

Clara let out a soft sigh and turned around to face him.

"Alistair, do you know why I didn't invite you to see me perform?"

Alistair shook his head, a look of confusion in his eyes.

Clara offered a bitter smile and said in a low voice, "Because I didn't want you to see me like this. Tonight’s dance was my farewell to myself—and a farewell to us."

Alistair’s heart sank. He took a step forward and seized Clara’s hand.

"Farewell? What do you mean?"

"It doesn't mean much. I just feel that the time, place, and circumstances of our meeting were all wrong."

Clara withdrew her hand and resumed removing her makeup.

"If I'm not just being vain, you should have at least some feelings for me. That's why I don't want to keep continuing this mistake. Otherwise... let's start over. As if we never began."

Hearing her words, Alistair’s heart jolted as if something had exploded in his chest.

Though her tone was calm, her words revealed that she wasn't entirely indifferent to him.

The phrase

"If I'm not just being vain, you should have at least some feelings for me"

was like a stone thrown into the stagnant pond of his heart, sending ripples through his entire being.

He took a step closer to her, his voice low, tender, and filled with an undeniable resolve: "Clara, you aren't being vain."

Clara froze, the makeup pad hovering in mid-air.

She looked up at Alistair through the mirror, her eyes swimming with complex emotions.

Her heart was racing, and his words echoed in her mind, but she fought to stay calm. She whispered, "Alistair, the gap between us is too large. I don't want to be your burden, nor do I want you to lose more because of me."

Alistair’s heart tightened. He reached out and gently squeezed her shoulders, his voice firm and gentle: "Clara, you have never been a burden to me."

A flash of hesitation crossed Clara’s eyes, but reason quickly suppressed it.

She gently pushed his hands away and remained silent.

Alistair didn't press her further. He simply watched her, his eyes full of warmth and resolve.

He suddenly curled his lips into a smile, his tone lightening: "Fine. I'll give you time. However, tonight’s performance was such a success—shouldn't we celebrate? Let me take you to dinner. Consider it a celebration for you, and the first step of our new beginning. What do you say?"

Clara was stunned. She hadn't expected such a sudden invitation.

A flush of shyness crept onto her face, and the tips of her ears turned slightly red. She lowered her head and whispered:

"Just dinner?"