"I heard you're quite the singer as well?" Nicole asked curiously, her tone light and teasing.
"You mean the song from the movie's end credits?" Tom turned to his wife, clearly intrigued.
"No," Nicole explained with a small smile, "I read in the paper that Hugo improvised a song live on The Oprah Winfrey Show. Is that true?"
Standing before Tom and Nicole, Hugo couldn't help but notice the easy chemistry between them—a connection most couples could only envy. Whatever the tabloids said about their marriage, the two had shared ten years together, from 1990 to 2000—a remarkable feat in the glittering, fickle world of Hollywood.
Uma chuckled softly beside him. "Hugo, if that's true, I think you owe me a guitar performance. I still haven't heard you play live."
Uma's remark made Nicole's eyes widen. "Really?" After Uma nodded to confirm, Nicole scrunched her elegant nose playfully. "Hugo, that's not what a good man should do. You know, women always expect a little romance."
Hugo glanced between Uma and Nicole, then sighed with a helpless smile as he turned to Tom. "When did they form an alliance?"
Tom shrugged, smirking. "Women…" That one word made all four of them laugh.
"Yes," Hugo admitted with a grin, "I do dabble in music. But I didn't realize news could travel all the way from Chicago to Los Angeles this fast."
Nicole didn't bother answering his comment. Instead, she looked at Uma. "Well, it sounds like he really does owe you a performance. Maybe you should think about a fitting punishment."
The women exchanged a mischievous glance before both turned to Hugo, their smiles full of teasing intent. Hugo raised his hands in mock surrender. "It's just one song—no need to take it so seriously, right?"
Nicole and Uma exchanged another look, then said in perfect unison, dragging out their words, "Men…" Their synchronized tone sent all four of them into another round of laughter.
Just then, the music in the hall changed. The upbeat tune faded, replaced by a slow foxtrot. A third of the lights dimmed, casting a warm glow across the room. The center space cleared out, transforming into a small dance floor where couples began to drift in, moving gracefully to the rhythm.
Hugo raised his eyebrows in surprise. "I didn't realize there'd be dancing tonight."
"It's a New Year's Eve party," Uma said with a smile. Nicole nodded eagerly in agreement. The moment reminded Hugo of scenes from classic romantic films—when the clock struck midnight, couples would hold each other close, dance slowly, count down together, and greet the new year with a kiss.
"So," Nicole teased, her tone playful, "aren't you going to invite Uma to the first dance of the night? A woman as graceful and beautiful as her—she's bound to have plenty of suitors waiting. If you don't act fast, you'll lose your chance. You've already skipped the guitar performance; don't tell me you'll miss the first dance too?"
Hugo turned to Uma, catching the bright smile on her face. He felt a twinge of embarrassment. The truth was, he had absolutely no idea how to dance a waltz—or any formal dance, for that matter. Being asked to dance was far more intimidating than performing or singing.
Tom gave him a look that clearly said you're on your own, then turned to Nicole with a gallant bow. "Beautiful lady, may I have this dance?"
"Of course, my knight," Nicole replied, taking his hand. She shot Hugo a playful wink before stepping gracefully into the dance floor with Tom. As they spun away, Tom glanced back over Nicole's shoulder, giving Hugo a mock-sympathetic look that made him feel even more hopeless.
Hugo scanned the room—no sign of Joseph or Sydney anywhere. They'd only been at the party for ten minutes. Maybe, he thought, one dance wouldn't hurt. Though he felt awkward, he knew this moment would mean a lot to Uma.
Taking a deep breath, Hugo stepped back, placing his left hand behind his back and resting his right hand over his chest in a courteous bow. Then, extending his hand toward her, he said with exaggerated formality, "My lovely lady, may I have the honor of this dance?"
Uma hadn't really expected it. She knew Hugo was here for work, and their earlier chat with Tom and Nicole had just been polite conversation. But now, hearing his sincere words and the way he spoke as though she were the center of his world—her heart fluttered unexpectedly. No woman could resist such an invitation, especially when Hugo's amber eyes glimmered softly in the dim light.
"It would be my honor, my prince," she replied playfully, lifting the hem of her white lace gown in a graceful curtsey before taking his hand. The warmth of his palm and the faint nervous sweat—made her smile. When she looked up and saw the tension in his jaw and the nervous flicker in his eyes, Uma couldn't help but find it endearing. This side of Hugo—awkward, shy, uncertain was one she'd never seen before. It was, in its own way, utterly charming.
Hugo glanced around at the other couples for guidance, then carefully placed Uma's right hand on his left shoulder and rested his own left hand at her waist. Once they were in position, he froze, whispering under his breath, "Uh… left foot or right foot first?"
Uma burst out laughing but quickly softened her expression when she saw the faint blush rising on his cheeks. Her smile turned tender. "Your right foot," she whispered. "Just follow my lead—slow, four beats. It's easy. Don't be nervous."
Hugo nodded earnestly, though his stiff neck betrayed his anxiety. Watching her feet out of the corner of his eye, he took one step forward, then another, closed his feet together, and moved slightly to the left, pivoting his toes just like she did.
The steps weren't difficult in theory—but in practice, his feet seemed to have minds of their own. He stepped forward when he should've paused, hesitated when he should've turned, and occasionally forgot which direction to move altogether.
Unable to lift his gaze from Uma's shoes, Hugo stumbled through the dance like a clumsy student trying to mimic his teacher—awkward and hesitant. Every now and then, he accidentally stepped on her foot, their movements jerking out of rhythm like a jammed gear in an old clock.
Even so, Uma's laughter was soft and full of warmth, echoing in the space between them as they swayed—clumsy, but somehow perfect.
The sight was almost comical a man being led around by a woman, repeatedly breaking the rhythm of what should have been a smooth and elegant slow dance. Instead, it looked more like a stiff mechanical routine, one that drew more smiles than admiration.
"Oh, sorry," Hugo said as he stepped on Uma's heel once again, wincing in frustration as he bit his lip.
Uma couldn't help but laugh. "Don't be nervous. Relax, relax." The truth was, Hugo had already learned the basic steps — he was just too tense and unsure of himself. His lack of confidence made his movements jerky, which in turn caused them to keep colliding.
Hugo gave a helpless chuckle. "I'm trying." But before the words were even out of his mouth, his shoe bumped into Uma's again. Defeated, he lowered his head, only to meet Uma's bright, gleaming eyes. Taking a deep breath, he suddenly pulled her into his arms. The two of them stood close, turning gently in place, their feet moving without rhythm but their hearts beating in sync. For a fleeting moment, everything around them seemed to melt away.
Tilting her head, Uma pressed a soft kiss against Hugo's neck and whispered in his ear, "How about we try again? We've already started — giving up now wouldn't be right. Besides, you were actually doing pretty well just now. Just a little more effort."
Hugo instinctively wanted to decline, but when he saw the hopeful look in her eyes, the words "forget it" never left his lips. He only nodded. "I'll try not to step on you this time."
Once more, he took Uma's hands, following the steps she'd shown him. Even so, his movements remained clumsy, his rhythm slightly off. Still, they continued across the dance floor, stumbling and laughing through the slow waltz. It wasn't romantic in the conventional sense — if anything, it was adorably awkward — yet somehow, it brought a smile to anyone who watched.
Uma's white evening gown swayed lightly in the motion, tracing graceful arcs through the air. Every time Hugo faltered, they would stop, readjust, and begin again. Their eyes stayed locked, and the smiles on their lips grew warmer with every imperfect step.
Biting her lower lip playfully, Uma whispered, "You know, this terrible dance doesn't count as making it up to me. You still owe me that guitar performance."
Hugo's face lit up immediately. "Of course! The dance doesn't count — I'll play you a song. No, a few songs, if you'd like." Then, unable to hide the hopeful tone in his voice, he added, "So… how about we end the dance here?"
Uma caught the eagerness in his expression and grinned mischievously. "Oh no, we're just getting started."
Hugo's wide-eyed look of dismay froze on his face, making Uma burst into quiet laughter. She leaned into his shoulder, trying hard to suppress the giggles shaking her shoulders and failing completely.
...
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