Uma knew that what Hugo wanted was an explanation: why she refused to tell him about The Firm and Tracy, why she kept sneaking around behind his back, why she feared he wouldn't trust her, and whether she had ever intended to use him. Even after knowing Tracy was undermining Hugo, why did she still take the opportunity?
Hugo had given Uma his absolute trust, but she had betrayed it. She stayed at Sydney's party without telling him that Tracy Jacobs and Martin Baum had tried to offer her a role; she left Hugo behind in Malibu to sneak back to Los Angeles for an audition alone; even after suspecting Tracy's schemes, she still chose The Firm; she remained silent in the face of Anthony's slander; and she refused to admit the truth despite Hugo's repeated tests. The outcome had already been determined.
Hugo didn't condemn her for taking the audition in The Firm. Opportunities like this were inevitable in Hollywood. Even if it hadn't been Tracy this time, Uma might have to work with other producers who disliked Hugo in the future. What Hugo condemned, tested, and grieved over was her concealment and her manipulation. Uma knew there was no need for explanations—her actions were explanation enough: she didn't trust him; she was using him. Any flowery justification would be futile.
A scornful smile, almost mad, spread across Uma's face as her eyes locked with Hugo's, full of pain. "So… no problem?"
Hugo stared at her, familiar yet alien. That night, she had appeared at his doorstep just like this; on New Year's Eve, she had stubbornly and resolutely made her choice. "There is one problem," Hugo said with difficulty. "During the time we dated… how much of it was real?"
"Heh-heh." Uma laughed at his question, the mockery and disdain in her gaze hitting Hugo like a whip. "You're so naive. Oh, God, you look like a fledgling just entering this business." Her words stirred Joseph and Charlize in the room—they wanted to intervene, but Kal and Alex stopped them, letting Uma continue.
"Every moment I spent with you was sincere. Even today, bringing food to your place was sincere. Does that comfort you? You're ridiculous. Things have reached this point, and you're still asking me such questions. Clearly, when love conflicts with career, I chose the latter. It's that simple. In Hollywood, no love is truly serious. Even after marriage, career is part of the marriage; love is never everything. If it can, love can even serve as a stepping stone for your career!" Uma raised her delicate eyebrows, looking at the innocent Hugo, whose heart had remained pure even after ten years in the industry. Uma suddenly felt pity—for herself. She saw reality clearly, but she had lost herself.
"Maybe you haven't considered that love and career aren't always in conflict. You taking The Firm—I don't mind. As for what I do mind, you're smart enough to know," Hugo said with a smile, though a tidal wave of pain washed over him. Uma froze, realizing he meant trust, and that she had betrayed it. It was as simple as that.
"Still… I find some comfort. At least I'm not a complete fool. Maybe there's hope," Hugo chuckled softly. "Now, please leave."
Uma studied Hugo as if seeing him for the first time. Dark circles framed his eyes; his amber gaze flickered, revealing inner turmoil. His emotions surged, making him seem both strong and fragile. His noble brow retained a faint warmth—her favorite expression.
She smiled, tucked her hair behind her ears, took a deep breath, and left without hesitation. She didn't look back, only pausing at the door. After a few seconds of silence, the sound of keys hitting a glass bowl rang crisp and clear, followed by the opening and closing of the door. Nothing else followed.
Hugo lifted his head, quietly watching the doorway. He didn't know what he was hoping for: Uma turning back to say, "I didn't use you," or to shout, "What's wrong with choosing my career?" or even to return and say, "Can we talk?"
He knew he was hoping—foolish, pitiful hope—that she would reappear. But she didn't. He only heard the keys fall into the glass bowl and suddenly remembered the day Uma had asked for a key to his house.
It had been the last day of 1992. Before going to a party, Uma had said it was inconvenient to always knock. Hugo agreed without hesitation. It wasn't about cohabiting or giving her access to private space—it was easy for him. He gave her his key first, planning to make a spare later.
Hugo frowned, trying to recall her expression when she got the key, but it was blurry. He only remembered the joy and happiness in her eyes.
He smiled helplessly, doubting if those happy moments had only existed in his imagination. Before New Year's Eve, everything had been fine. Even at the first half of Sydney's party, things went smoothly: clumsy slow dances, mistletoe kisses… Hugo had expected someone to hold his hand into the New Year. But he was wrong.
Uma didn't even want to explain. She left with cool detachment, preserving her dignity, and yet Hugo was left in an even more pitiful state. He still hoped she would defend herself, still hoped she would refute him. Was he too naive? Why didn't Uma fight for this relationship once, even if it meant blaming Hugo for selfishness or not thinking of her? She could have explained, argued, been angry, resisted—anything would have shown she cared. But she did nothing. She left without regret.
Was it because this relationship wasn't worth her effort? Or was it because he had been too foolish and immature to see reality? Or had the entire relationship only ever been about using him?
Standing there, Hugo felt ridiculous—so ridiculous that it bordered on absurdity. What was he expecting? Was his trust really that cheap? He laughed, mocking his own foolishness and naivety. Ten years in the industry, and he was still holding onto such unrealistic dreams—truly pathetic.
Joseph and Kal stood by the door, watching Hugo lean against the dining table. A smile slowly spread across their faces, growing until it was uncontrollable, yet no sound escaped. That desolate, ironic smile made Hugo look normal, yet in this moment, it was deeply unsettling.
"Hugo," Joseph called out. Hugo turned to him, still wearing that ironic smile. "What's wrong?"
Charlize and Alex emerged from the distance, frowning at Hugo, who seemed almost possessed. "What are you laughing at?" Charlize asked. She didn't like seeing Hugo this way; his mournful smile made him look pitiful, and it unsettled her.
"I'm… laughing at myself," Hugo said, his laugh shaky and fragmented, as if he were out of breath.
"Hugo Lancaster! You're insane!" Charlize shouted in anger. Joseph and the others were startled, looking between Charlize and Hugo, unsure how to respond. They didn't want to escalate his negative emotions, but Charlize seemed entirely unbothered, which scared them even more.
Hugo didn't speak, only nodded repeatedly, still smiling.
"Stop it! Do you know how pathetic you look? It's just a woman! If you really cared, you'd go after her. Standing here, acting pitiful—what kind of man does that make you?" Charlize snapped, unleashing a torrent of words at Hugo.
Hugo's smile gradually stiffened. Joseph and the others froze, as if choked, even holding their breath.
The blood drained from Hugo's smile, leaving only a pale, weak curve at his lips. "I was laughing… I thought I was being rational, giving her a chance to explain. But she didn't even want to explain. Hah… my so-called rationality is worthless. Maybe, in her eyes, this relationship isn't worth arguing or explaining for. Then if I went after her, it would only make me look pitiful. So… I decided to act pitiful, just for you—to let you not worry too much."
Charlize's anger subsided as she watched Hugo. She felt a pang of sympathy. Every relationship defies logic, yet Hugo and Uma had approached this moment rationally, and that rationality cut through the relationship like a sharp blade, leaving nothing behind. Hugo's trust, Hugo's expectations—it all seemed ridiculous.
A love without conflict isn't really love, because conflict is necessary. This was Uma's most lethal blow to Hugo.
"Hugo…" Charlize didn't know what to say. She only watched him, now devoid of a smile. Though he tried to remain composed, his despair radiated from his furrowed brows.
"I'm fine… really fine," Hugo murmured. Then he took a step toward his room. "I just need a little time… to be alone, to think… to really think."
Charlize and the others watched Hugo walk step by step back to his room. His thin figure disappeared through the doorway, leaving only the faint sound of the closing door, echoing softly in the morning sunlight.
.....
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