The Distance of Reality

It was supposed to be a pleasant weekend. Ethan lounged on the couch at home, absently scrolling through his phone while taking a bite of an apple—until an urgent call from Steve disrupted his peace.

"Ethan, I'm begging you—help me out!"

"What's going on?"

"There's a high-profile charity gala at the Westminster Grand Hotel tonight. My brother was supposed to be working as a waiter, but something came up last minute. I'm short one person! Please, just three hours—I'll even double your pay!"

"So last minute?" Ethan raised an eyebrow, initially reluctant. But the mention of the Westminster Grand Hotel gave him pause.

That was a place reserved for the city's elite—a world he had never set foot in before.

"Alright," he sighed. "I've got nothing better to do tonight anyway. Consider it me doing you a favor."

"Nice! Hurry over, I've got a uniform ready for you!"

With an amused shake of his head, Ethan threw on a black shirt, grabbed his jacket, and headed out the door.

As night fell, the Westminster Grand Hotel stood bathed in dazzling lights.

One of the city's most prestigious venues, it was a gathering place for the upper echelons of society—where every guest exuded elegance and influence, their conversations laced with power and refinement.

Dressed in a crisp black suit, Ethan moved among the other waitstaff, balancing a tray in his hands. He had worked odd jobs before, but this was the first time he had ever stepped into such an opulent setting—not as a guest, but as a mere server.

Taking a steadying breath, he reminded himself to remain an observer, nothing more, and focused on his task.

Yet the moment his eyes landed on Isabella, he faltered.

She stood at the heart of the grand hall, draped in an ethereal blue gown. Soft curls framed her face, and delicate earrings glimmered under the warm chandelier light. She was a vision of poise and sophistication—a stark contrast to the carefree girl he knew at school.

For the first time, Ethan felt an unfamiliar distance between them.

Was this really the same Isabella?

Before he could collect himself, she turned—and their gazes locked.

She froze in surprise, her eyes widening slightly before she instinctively called his name.

"Ethan?"

She quickly crossed the room to him, lowering her voice. "What are you doing here?"

"Uh…" He gave a wry smile, gesturing at the tray in his hands. "Last-minute gig. They needed an extra hand, so here I am."

Her brows furrowed. "You should have told me, I—"

"Isabella."

A composed, authoritative voice interrupted her.

Henry Laurent approached, his wife Vivian beside him. Their gazes, though polite, lingered on Ethan with quiet scrutiny.

"And this is?" Henry inquired, though his tone suggested he already knew the answer.

"Ah… Good evening, sir." Ethan immediately adopted a professional demeanor, offering a courteous smile. "I'm Ethan, a temporary server for the night."

"He's my classmate," Isabella quickly added.

Vivian offered a poised smile and a slight nod. "I see. Welcome, Ethan."

Henry, however, merely observed him in silence, his expression unreadable.

"Isabella, we should go. The host is about to begin his speech," Vivian reminded her gently.

Isabella hesitated, glancing at Ethan as if wanting to say more. But in the end, she simply nodded and followed her parents into the ballroom.

Ethan remained rooted to the spot, watching her disappear into the crowd.

A strange, hollow feeling settled in his chest.

Midway through the gala, Ethan was clearing wine glasses when a voice called his name.

Turning, he found himself face-to-face with Henry Laurent. The older man held a glass of red wine, his gaze calm yet piercing.

"Ethan, may I have a word?" His tone was polite, yet carried an unmistakable weight—one that left little room for refusal.

Ethan hesitated for a brief moment before nodding. "Of course."

They stepped aside, away from the lively chatter of the banquet hall. Henry took a measured sip of his wine before finally speaking.

"You and Isabella seem close."

Ethan kept his voice level. "We're friends."

Henry gave a slow nod, his expression giving away nothing. "I can see that. Isabella thinks highly of you, and I can understand why."

Despite the seemingly neutral words, an uneasy feeling crept into Ethan's chest.

"But Ethan," Henry continued, his voice still calm yet edged with undeniable gravity, "do you truly believe you can be part of her future?"

Ethan's grip tightened around the tray in his hands.

"You and Isabella live in different worlds," Henry said, his tone not unkind, but firm with reality's cold certainty.

Ethan remained silent.

Henry studied him for a moment before speaking again, his voice gentle yet resolute. "This isn't about whether you're good enough. It's about the reality of the path ahead. Isabella has responsibilities—expectations placed upon her. And you… you have your own road to walk."

A heavy silence stretched between them before Ethan finally found his voice.

"You want me to stay away from her."

Henry didn't confirm it, nor did he deny it.

Instead, he simply said, "I want what's best for her. And sometimes, caring for someone doesn't mean holding on—it means knowing when to let go."

Ethan stood there, unmoving, as the sounds of the grand hall faded into the background.

By the time the gala ended, Ethan stepped out of the hotel, gazing up at the vast night sky.

His heart felt like a tangled knot.

He had always believed that as long as two people truly cared for each other, status and wealth didn't matter. But tonight, for the first time, he realized just how deep the divide between them ran.

Henry had not spoken with malice. He had not looked down on him.

And perhaps that was what made it worse—because it meant Henry's words weren't born of arrogance, but of an unshakable, undeniable reality.

Ethan let out a slow breath, pulling out his phone.

A message from Isabella awaited him.

"Are you still here?"

He stared at the screen for a long time before finally typing a response—two simple words.

"I am."

He knew, deep down, that this message meant more than just a casual check-in.

But right now, he wasn't sure what else he could say.