Unbound - Rachel's Story
Copyright© 2025 by A Kiwi Guy
Chapter 9
The next morning, Rachel was woken by the cheerful chime of her phone. For a few bleary seconds she thought it was her alarm and fumbled to silence it, but then the screen told her Godmama Chloe was calling.
She rubbed her eyes and answered.
“Godmama! This is a surprise—and a very nice one. What have I done to deserve the honour of your call?”
“Oh, nothing much,” Chloe replied, her voice warm and teasing, “I just thought I’d ring to congratulate my goddaughter—the new star of stage and screen.”
Rachel sat up, hair tumbling in all directions. “What on earth are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about you, and your triumph last night.”
Rachel frowned. “What triumph?”
“At the Ara Ball, darling! You were the undisputed star of the evening.”
Rachel blinked. “How do you even know about that?”
“My dear girl, the whole city knows. There are videos of you and that rather dashing partner of yours all over Facebook this morning. Didn’t you realise?”
Rachel was momentarily speechless. “Videos? No! I had no idea anyone was filming us.”
“With cell phones these days, filming is practically compulsory,” Chloe said, chuckling. “People can’t go to dinner without someone posting their entrée on social media, let alone a performance like yours.”
“Crumbs,” Rachel murmured. “What are they saying?”
“Oh, mostly things like ’most beautiful dance I’ve ever seen’, ’what a stunning couple’, and ’does anyone know who they are?’. Believe me, you’ve made quite an impression—whether you meant to or not.”
Rachel flopped back against her pillows. “I wasn’t trying to make an impression ... I just didn’t want to sit on the sidelines all night. I’m not sure I like this kind of attention.”
“Well,” Chloe said firmly, “I think it’s doing you good. You’ve been in your shell for far too long. I’m thrilled to see you emerging—like a butterfly from its cocoon, if I’m not mangling my metaphors too badly.”
Rachel smiled despite herself.
“And,” Chloe continued, her tone taking on a note of curiosity, “tell me more about this partner of yours. Who is he? How did you two link up?”
Rachel gave her a brief but vivid account of how Sarah had introduced them, and how the friendship had quickly grown into something warmer.
Chloe gave a knowing little laugh. “It sounds as though you’re putting into practice that kintsugi philosophy we talked about—the art of mending something broken so that it becomes even more beautiful.”
Rachel’s voice softened. “Actually, the transformation’s mostly thanks to Matt. He has this uncanny way of drawing me out without pushing. With him, I’m starting to feel ... different. Lighter.”
“Ah,” Chloe said in a mock-conspiratorial tone, “so there’s more going on than just a bit of dancing.”
“It did start out that way,” Rachel admitted. “But yes—things have progressed. In fact, last night he asked if I’d be his girlfriend.”
A squeal of delight came down the line. “And?”
Rachel laughed. “And the answer was definitely yes.”
“Oh, my darling, I am so thrilled. Knowing you, I’m sure you’ll go carefully, but I have a very good feeling about this young man.”
“There’s something else I think you’ll be glad to hear,” Rachel added. “Matt invited me along to his Sunday afternoon fellowship group. I was a bit nervous at first—thought I wouldn’t fit in—but they were warm and welcoming. I’m looking forward to going again with my new boyfriend.”
“That,” Chloe said approvingly, “sounds like an excellent sign. Keep me posted, won’t you? And in the meantime, bask a little in this moment. You deserve it.”
Rachel ended the call smiling—and only then did it occur to her to check her own Facebook feed. She was not prepared for what she saw.
The first post that popped up stopped her cold—a shaky phone video, taken from the side of the dance floor. There she was in her rich-red gown, gliding alongside Matt, the two of them moving in perfect time. She tapped the sound icon. The music swelled faintly through the phone’s tinny speaker, and over it came a low murmur of voices:
“That’s so beautiful.”
“They’re amazing together.”
“Who is she?”
The clip had already racked up hundreds of views, dozens of likes, and more comments than she cared to count.
Rachel scrolled. There was another video from a different angle, showing Matt laughing with her before they began to dance, his hand brushing hers in a way that, now she saw it, looked far more intimate than she remembered at the time. Someone had captioned it: “The ballroom’s most romantic couple.”
Her stomach gave a small, startled flip. Couple. That word was now public property, apparently.
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