prologue
686 Words
Prologue:
The roar of the jet engines filled the small-town airport as Jack Carter's private plane touched down on the icy runway. A crowd had already gathered outside the terminal, despite the biting December cold. Reporters clutched their microphones and notebooks, their breath forming clouds in the air as they jostled for the best position. Locals, bundled in scarves and gloves, pressed against the barricades, phones held high to capture a glimpse of the town's prodigal son.
Jack Carter-captain of Real Madrid, two-time Ballon d'Or winner, and one of the most famous athletes in the world-had come home.
Inside the terminal, Rose Bennett stood among the throng of journalists, her stomach churning. She hadn't seen Jack in five years-not since the night she broke his heart in front of their entire graduating class. A part of her had hoped she'd never have to face him again. But when her editor assigned her to cover his homecoming for Channel 7 News, she had no choice but to step back into the past she'd tried so hard to bury.
The jet's door hissed open, and Jack appeared at the top of the stairs, dressed in a sharp black coat that fit him like it had been custom-made. He paused, scanning the crowd with a faint smile, his confident demeanor only amplifying the aura that made him larger than life.
Rose's breath caught. He looked different, older, sharper-but it was still him. His hair was shorter now, neatly styled, and his jawline was more defined. But his eyes were the same: piercing, unreadable, and currently cutting through the crowd like a blade.
She couldn't tell if he'd spotted her. She hoped he hadn't.
"Jack!" shouted a reporter near the front. "How does it feel to be back in your hometown after all these years?"
Jack descended the stairs slowly, his smile practiced and polite. "It's good to be back," he said, his deep voice carrying easily over the chatter. "This town has always been special to me."
The reporters surged forward, firing off more questions.
"Why did you choose to host a charity match here?"
"Do you have any plans to reconnect with old friends?"
"Are you staying for Christmas?"
Jack answered them effortlessly, his charm keeping the crowd in the palm of his hand. Rose stood at the back, clutching her microphone, debating whether to speak. Her heart pounded as she raised it, her voice cutting through the noise.
"Jack, Rose Bennett, Channel 7 News. You've come so far since your days here. What do you hope this visit will achieve?"
For the first time, Jack paused. Slowly, he turned to look at her, his expression unreadable. The crowd quieted, sensing something unsaid in the air.
"Rose Bennett," he repeated, his tone as smooth as glass, yet carrying a razor-sharp edge. "Channel 7 News." He said her name like he was tasting it, as though the sound itself brought back memories he'd rather forget.
Rose's cheeks flushed under his gaze, but she held his stare.
"I'm here for the charity match," Jack continued, his smile tight. "This town holds a lot of memories for me. Some I cherish..." His voice dropped just slightly, his words pointed. "And some I've worked very hard to leave behind."
The reporters exchanged glances, the tension palpable. Jack turned back to the crowd, dismissing Rose with the ease of a professional who'd mastered control. "Thank you all for being here. I look forward to seeing everyone at the match."
He strode toward the waiting car without another glance at her, his entourage falling into step behind him. The cameras followed his every move, but the murmurs in the crowd were all about his veiled remark.
Rose lowered her microphone, her hand trembling slightly. Around her, the other journalists buzzed with excitement.
"Did you see that?" one whispered.
"Who is she to him?"
"What was that about?"
She swallowed hard, the weight of the moment crashing over her. Jack's words had landed like a blow, and she knew one thing for certain: the past she'd spent years trying to escape was now front-page news.
- Writer
