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Married Before Midnight - Married Before Midnight by Sienna Quinn - Chapter 59
Author: Novels Audio
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Married Before Midnight
Chapter 59: The Old and the New
The morning light filtered through the studio windows as Charlotte stretched, her muscles warming up for the first rehearsal with Liam in over a year. She had accepted the role—her dream role—but the weight of it pressed against her ribs like an unspoken secret. The door creaked open, and Liam strolled in, his easy confidence unchanged. "Long time no see, Char," he said, his voice smooth, fingers brushing lightly against her back as they moved into position. Charlotte didn’t flinch, but she didn’t lean into the touch either. "Let’s just focus on the choreography," she replied, her tone clipped. Liam smirked, undeterred. "Still holding a grudge? I thought dancers were better at letting go." She ignored him, counting the beats in her head as they began.
Their bodies remembered each other—every lift, every turn, every shift of weight—as if no time had passed. It was effortless, seamless. And that was the problem. From the corner of her eye, she caught Jamie sitting at the back of the room, his script open but his gaze fixed on her. His presence was a quiet storm, unsettling the practiced rhythm of her thoughts. When rehearsal ended, Liam lingered. "We should grab coffee. Catch up." Charlotte shook her head. "I have another rehearsal." "With Jamie?" Liam’s smirk deepened. "You always did have a thing for complicated men." She clenched her jaw. "Goodbye, Liam." Jamie intercepted her as she left, his expression unreadable. "You danced beautifully," he said, though there was no warmth in the compliment. Charlotte shrugged. "It’s muscle memory. Nothing more." "And your heart?" She turned sharply. "What do you want, Jamie? Are you jealous? Or just pretending to care?" He stepped closer, his voice low. "You think I’d sabotage your career over something like that?" "I don’t know what to think," she admitted. "Maybe I’m just afraid history will repeat itself." Jamie’s eyes darkened. "Not everyone leaves, Charlotte."
That evening, the theater hummed with tension. Margot assigned them a new scene—a rain-soaked argument between lovers torn apart by past wounds. The dialogue was sharp, the emotions raw. Charlotte threw herself into the performance, channeling every ounce of frustration into her character. But Jamie deviated from the script. Instead of the scripted outburst, he said quietly, "If you want to walk away, then go… but don’t use the past as an excuse for not daring to start over." The words struck her like a physical blow. The lights dimmed, the scene ended, but Charlotte’s pulse refused to slow. She fled backstage, her hands trembling as she gripped the edge of the dressing table. I don’t like Jamie. Not at all. The lie echoed hollowly in her chest.