Whispers Turn to Whimpers: Could He Ever Change?

Chapter 88

“What is this?”

Gilbert felt something grossly sticky under his foot that made his skin crawl.

He whipped out his phone for a closer look and realized he’d stepped in some sort of food, gooey and sticky, like some kind of syrup?

“Ugh!” Gilbert grimaced, shaking his foot vigorously before stalking off with a scowl.

Behind him, Sherilyn burst through the door.

She had just realized that her pumpkin pie, which she had accidentally tossed outside earlier, was now a smeared mess on the ground.

Using her phone’s flashlight, she eventually found the splattered mess in a corner. It was completely trampled, its contents spilled all over.

“Ah…” With a sigh of regret, Sherilyn muttered. “Well, can’t eat this now.”

She turned to fetch a broom. It was her mess; naturally, she should clean it up.

The small incident with the pumpkin pie didn’t linger in Sherilyn’s mind.

The next morning, following the address Blake had sent her, Sherilyn arrived on time at the venue, along with a few other dance stand–ins,

To her surprise, Caleb was there too. They were also joined by the dance choreographer.

“I’ll keep it brief. I’ve communicated my expectations for the dance to the choreographer. The routines they’ve designed need to be practiced diligently by all of you. I expect a seamless performance during the shoot; we can’t afford any

stops.”

Caleb was known for insisting on a single–take performance, applying the rigorous standards of theater to his actors, including the stand–ins.

“Got it.” Sherilyn steeled herself mentally. But she wasn’t frightened; after all, a dancer’s job is to dance well.

Throughout the morning, all the stand–ins, under the choreographer’s guidance, practiced until they were drenched in sweat. Caleb’s standards were indeed high.

justo

And this was just one segment, reportedly the opening.

It wasn’t until after 2 p.m. that the choreographer finally clapped his hands, signaling they could leave, but not without reminding them, “Make sure to practice at home. You all know what Mr. Marshall expects.”

“Got it.”

“Okay.”

Packing up, Sherilyn felt her stomach rumble, hungry.

They had provided lunch, but she had danced off those calories a long time ago. She debated whether to grab a burger or go home and make some pasta.

But pasta would mean going all the way home, and she was too hungry to wait.

Opting for convenience, Sherilyn stopped by a nearby burger joint and grabbed a burger to eat on the go. Exclusive © material by Nô(/v)elDrama.Org.

“Sherilyn?” Suddenly, someone called her name.

Startled, Sherilyn looked up to see a middle–aged man standing a few steps away.

The man stared at her unblinkingly, as if afraid she’d disappear the moment he blinked.

“Sherilyn!”

He took a couple of steps closer, a look of joy spreading across his face.

“It really is you! You’ve grown so much, I almost didn’t recognize you…” He trailed off.

Sherilyn flashed a sarcastic smile, her disdain barely concealed. “Excuse me, could you move?”

The man blinked in confusion. “Sherilyn, don’t you recognize me?”

“Do I have to?” Sherilyn raised an eyebrow. “Should I know you?”

For a moment, he couldn’t tell if she genuinely didn’t recognize him or if she was just acting out of spite.

He pointed to himself, attempting to jog her memory, “It’s been a long time. The last time I saw you… was five years ago. You’ve changed a lot, but I haven’t. You should remember…”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”

Sherilyn cut him off, clearly annoyed. “I don’t know you. Now, if you’ll excuse me, don’t block my way.”

As she tried to sidestep him, he reached out, grabbing her arm. “Wait a minute…”

But that was a mistake. It just put her on the defensive.

“Ah!” Like a startled animal, Sherilyn glared at him in terror, desperately trying to pull away. “Don’t touch me! Let me go right now!”