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🕑 Added 2025-05-04 19:41:35 +0000 UTCChapter 1371: Blurring the Line Between Reality and Performance
"...Somewhere in the corner, a heart is breaking, in the shadows where the lost ones roam. If you can make it across the river of tears, you'll find me in the arms of the blues."
There was no other accompaniment, just a single guitar. Johnny Cash stood at the microphone, gently humming as he strummed. The lively, rhythmic melody had the entire audience clapping along, keeping time with the beat. Applause surged like waves, surrounding the sound of the guitar strings, as the whole theater joined in the performance.
Sweat trickled down Johnny's forehead, but his furrowed brow slowly relaxed. A faint smile played at the corners of his lips.
Turning his head, Johnny spotted June Carter.
Having already finished her performance earlier, June had swapped out her stage shoes for slippers and was now standing at the side of the stage, sipping a Coke while enjoying the show. It was clear—she was relaxed, at ease, gently swaying with the melody. Her light blue dress fluttered elegantly, and her smile, too, was easy and unguarded.
Their eyes met. June’s smile grew a little wider, as if she were genuinely enjoying Johnny’s performance.
"Yeah, you’ll find me in the arms of the blues."
Johnny broke eye contact and continued singing, carrying the song to its perfect conclusion.
The audience erupted in applause.
But it didn’t stop there. As the clapping continued, the energy in the theater grew restless. One by one, people in the back rows stood up, their excitement barely contained.
A storm of cheers, whistles, and shouts rippled through the room, mixing with the rhythmic clapping. More and more people rose to their feet, waving their arms, trying to get Johnny’s attention. In an instant, the energy in the theater reached a fever pitch, filling every corner of the space and continuing to swell.
Roars. Wild, electrified roars.
Johnny tilted his head up. The stage lights shone down, casting halos in his vision. The heat in the room pressed against his skin like a scorching wave, sharp and dizzying. His steady stance wavered slightly as he swayed in the overwhelming energy.
Floating. Melting. Drifting away.
For a fleeting moment, he lost his grip on reality. It felt as if he were standing on a cloud, at the very peak of the world, with everything beneath him bowing in submission.
Everything—except one thing.
As his vision refocused, he caught a glimpse of June’s dress in his peripheral view. She was turning away, still holding her Coke, smiling as she walked off.
Leaving?
Just like that?
How could she just walk away so casually, so indifferently? Leaving him standing there alone, drowning in this overwhelming moment like a fool?
His smile stiffened slightly. His brain didn’t even have time to process the thought before his body reacted. His gaze locked onto the hem of her dress, and the words spilled out before he could stop them.
"Hey, folks! How about we invite June Carter back on stage?"
June froze in place, nearly choking on her Coke.
Why was her name being mentioned?
"Maybe she’d like to sing a duet with me," Johnny added smoothly.
A deafening roar erupted from the audience.
Cheers, whistles, and excited shouts filled the theater, escalating the already electric atmosphere. The crowd was instantly on board, some even whistling as they whooped and hollered, eager to see what would happen next.
A chant began, rolling through the audience like a rising wave.
"June! June! June!"
Johnny turned toward the side stage, his gaze playful yet expectant. A mischievous smirk curled his lips, torn between teasing and anticipation. The thrill of pushing her into a corner sent a wicked satisfaction coursing through him.
But June didn’t have time to decipher the look in Johnny’s eyes. She was too caught off guard, too flustered. Instinctively, she refused.
"No, no, no, no, no!"
She shook her head vigorously, waving her hands to shut down this absurd idea before it could take hold.
Johnny turned his body fully toward her.
No?
Another rejection?
He didn’t understand. He knew there was something between them. He could feel it. They both could. There were sparks—so why did she keep pushing him away?
Why?
Was she just playing hard to get? Or was she toying with his feelings?
Watching her shake her head so adamantly, a dark thrill crept into Johnny’s expression. A cat-and-mouse game.
His smirk deepened. "Right now. No hesitation. June, I’ve never had the chance to sing a duet with you."
June, still flustered, didn’t notice the subtle shift in his tone. She just knew she had to refuse, with every fiber of her being.
She shook her head again, her rejection clear. "I’m wearing slippers. I can’t go out like this."
Johnny leaned into the microphone. The audience couldn’t hear June, but he could. And he wasn’t about to let her escape.
"They don’t care if you’re wearing slippers," he announced.
"Come on, this is the highlight of the night."
He wasn’t letting her slip away this time.
Turning back to the audience, he flashed his signature charming smile. "Alright, folks, let’s chant together!"
"June! June! June!"
The chant started off low, almost like a bass drum, before building in volume.
Once. Then again.
"June!"
The audience didn’t need to think. They weren’t even sure if they wanted to see this duet—they just wanted to be part of the moment.
Slowly, steadily, the chant overtook the theater, like a tornado forming in the distance.
June was in disbelief.
In an atmosphere like this, refusing to go on stage wasn’t just about disappointing the crowd. It was about her reputation. Theater managers wouldn’t take kindly to a performer unwilling to play along with the audience. This could follow her, making future bookings difficult.
She couldn’t believe Johnny had put her in this position.
She stared at him, utterly stunned, her hands spread in silent protest.
But Johnny didn’t care.
He had her now, and he wasn’t letting go.
One more time, he turned to her—not just him, but the entire band on stage. They all turned, adding to the pressure.
June had nowhere left to run.
Johnny saw the flicker of defiance in her eyes, the fire that made her so irresistibly fierce. For a brief moment, he hesitated. But there was no turning back now.
So he grinned and said, "Come on, June. Prove Elvis wrong."
"He said you’d never sing unless it was written into your schedule."
A teasing jab. A playful dare.
The crowd erupted in laughter. They caught the underlying mockery in Elvis’s words, and it only made them more excited.
"June! June! June!"
The chant was deafening now.
Watching from the monitor, James Mangold was frozen in shock.
He couldn’t believe how seamlessly the actors and audience were playing off each other, their interactions so organic that, for a moment, even he forgot it was a performance. It felt real—like stepping back in time and witnessing the actual moment Johnny forced June onto that stage.
Mangold still remembered what June had once told him:
"At that moment, I was furious. Honestly, I wanted to strangle him. He ruined everything."
And now, in front of the cameras, it was happening all over again.
June Carter was absolutely livid.
*(End of Chapter)*
*Chapter 1372: Rationality Derails*
"June! June! June!"
The entire theater was ablaze with excitement.
June Carter was furious—literally.
Yet, precisely because her anger had reached its peak, she didn’t explode. Instead, she let out a bitter laugh, placed one hand on her hip, and held her Coca-Cola in the other, looking at Johnny with a half-smile. She completely ignored the growing roar of the audience. Her calm and composed stance seemed to say:
If I walk away right now, what can you do about it?
With just a look and a smile, June Carter met Johnny’s gaze head-on, without avoidance or compliance, standing her ground with ease.
This demeanor caught Johnny completely off guard.
His smile, still lingering at the corners of his mouth, began to stiffen. His eyes flickered with hesitation and fear, gradually freezing under the golden stage lights.
Faced with love, Johnny exposed his vulnerability.
He was trapped—by Vivian, by the vanity of fame, by the emptiness and loneliness that followed the chaos of the limelight. He had sought warmth but failed time and again, turning instead to alcohol for solace, finding fleeting comfort in all the wrong places.
Now, still half-drunk, riding on a wave of residual alcohol, he had acted impulsively to break the deadlock—only to fall into deeper turmoil.
A fear beyond words gripped Johnny’s heart, tightening its hold.
Then, June Carter turned and walked away.
In an instant, Johnny felt as if he had fallen into an ice-cold abyss. His mind roared, spinning wildly. The combination of a hangover and sleep deprivation sent his temples throbbing, his heart slowly cracking apart—but without an ounce of pain.
"What do I do, JR? What do I do?"
Johnny tried to move, but he was frozen in place.
For a fleeting moment, he forgot to breathe.
In the next second, the stiffness in his smile melted away like a flower blossoming under the first rays of spring sunshine. His brows relaxed, his expression softened—
He could finally breathe again.
June Carter hadn’t left. She had merely stepped aside to place her slippers neatly in the corner and handed her Coca-Cola to someone else before turning back around.
Her eyes, her expression, radiated fearless confidence:
A duet? Fine. Who’s afraid of who? June Carter had never feared anyone.
Not only did she step onto the stage, but she did so with a bright smile, her head held high, full of poise.
The moment June Carter reappeared in view, the theater erupted into a frenzy—cheers, screams, applause, all surging like a tidal wave.
June Carter, ever the natural, turned and waved to the audience with practiced ease.
Johnny watched her intently, unaware that the smile on his lips had fully bloomed. His eyes locked onto her with undeniable hunger and longing—a mixture of innocent admiration and dark, possessive greed, blending contradictions into a harmonious whole.
Desire took root.
The numbing effects of alcohol and the disarray of his hangover loosened their grip, as if even gravity’s hold on him was slipping away.
His feet, as though weightless balloons, swayed in the breeze.
As June Carter approached, Johnny lost control. He wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her close, pressing his forehead to hers, his cheek brushing against hers, savoring her warmth, her breath, her presence.
"See, June? They want to see us sing together."
Johnny was seeking credit.
But June Carter found herself in a predicament.
A duet? No problem. A duet was just a duet. But Johnny’s touch was too intimate, catching her off guard and throwing her off balance.
She couldn’t be as reckless as Johnny.
She had just gone through a high-profile divorce. The tabloids had feasted on the scandal, and no one cared about the truth. Society always judged women more harshly than men.
She couldn’t afford entanglement with Johnny. She couldn’t be labeled a homewrecker. She couldn’t make her situation even worse.
Not now.
Even if she liked Johnny—even if she could sense his feelings for her—she had to keep her distance. Otherwise, she would be dragged into the unforgiving abyss of public scrutiny.
But Johnny didn’t understand. Not only did he not understand, he was making things worse.
June Carter tried to free herself from Johnny’s grip, but she couldn’t blatantly slap him in front of everyone. Instead, she forced a smile and joked into the microphone.
"Alright, alright, let go of me first. I’ll sing with you, but you have to let me go."
She played along, keeping the performance lighthearted, blending humor with the show’s atmosphere. Laughter filled the theater, and finally, June Carter managed to slip out of Johnny’s grasp—but there was no time to breathe. They were standing under the spotlight, every move scrutinized by thousands of eyes—
The weight of public opinion was crushing.
June Carter put on a big, bright smile to hide her flustered nerves.
"Hey, everyone, good evening!"
"I hope you don’t mind me going barefoot."
A self-deprecating joke, casually thrown out to ease the tension. But this time, the audience wasn’t entirely on board. The laughter was sparse, making June Carter a bit uneasy.
She needed to pivot quickly. "So, what are we singing, Johnny?"
Just sing and get off the stage, she told herself. Get through one song and leave. Her professional smile carried a hint of urgency.
"You pulled me out here—was this your whole plan?"
Sharp, witty, unfiltered—
June Carter was still June Carter, never backing down, her words laced with challenge.
This time, she won the audience over. The theater erupted in applause and laughter.
June turned to Johnny, her smile radiant, a hint of mischief in her eyes. But she hadn’t expected Johnny to be one step ahead.
Johnny looked at June deeply, then leaned into the microphone, glancing at the audience with a bashful smile.
"I’ve always loved one of your songs—'Time’s-a-Wastin’'. Let’s sing that one."
June blinked, her smile pausing briefly at the corners of her lips.
When she looked at Johnny again, his pupils constricted slightly, flashing a mix of mischief and hesitation, as if he were toying with a secret.
As applause and cheers rang out, June ignored Johnny. Her gaze flickered, realizing too late that he had set a trap for her. Now, she had backed herself into a corner. Her professional smile stretched wider.
"Oh, come on, I don’t even remember that song."
"How about we sing your hit single, 'Big River'?"
She shifted the topic swiftly, offering an alternative.
The theater responded immediately with applause.
"That’s a great song," June added, rallying the audience’s enthusiasm.
And it worked—for a moment, at least. The crowd buzzed with excitement, her strategy taking hold.
But Johnny refused to back down.
His mind was a tangled mess, thoughts colliding chaotically in his hangover haze. His pulse pounded, his heart ready to burst.
That desire—dark, fierce, twisted—broke free from its chains. His gaze, once hesitant, hardened into unrelenting determination.
A reckless abandon took hold.
The last shreds of rationality snapped, and Johnny locked eyes with June, his aggression unrestrained—
Unfiltered. Unhinged. Unstoppable.
(End of Chapter)
*Chapter 1373: A Lifeline in the Water*
His stomach churned, his rationality derailed, and his body seemed to be heating up subtly.
Anson wanted to throw up.
An overwhelming urge to vomit crashed over him repeatedly, threatening to spiral out of control. Half-conscious, his head spun, his sense of balance faltering as the world turned upside down in his mind.
His sanity wavered between reality and illusion. An impulse—desire, possession—was breaking free from its chains, rampaging into chaos.
At this moment, Johnny was reckless—
Possessiveness and aggression surged within him, pushing him forward with no regard for anything else.
At the same time, Anson was equally reckless—
He seemed to be invading Johnny’s soul, seizing that intense longing.
Had Johnny forgotten about Vivian? Had he forgotten his faith? In the church, both divorce and infidelity were sins.
No, he hadn’t.
He knew. He never forgot. But standing in the face of darkness, the loneliness, the confusion, and the pain shattered him completely, exposing his insignificance.
Humble and fragile.
He once believed he was strong enough. He once thought he was steadfast, that he could resist loneliness and temptation, that no matter what happened, he would stand firm like a rock, unmoved.
And yet, reality proved otherwise.
Like an ant, he succumbed to the darkness effortlessly, crawling at its feet, begging for the devil’s mercy and pity. Beneath his polished exterior, he had long since rotted away.
Standing before Joan Carter, he longed for her to save him, to take his hand and pull him out of the darkness. At the same time, he wished to drag her down into the abyss so that he would no longer be alone. Yet, he was terrified of his own twisted and filthy thoughts, unable to meet her gaze, fearing that she would see right through him.
A tangled mess of contradictions.
Just like Anson once was.
He, too, thought he was different. He thought he could change the world. He thought he was a superhero. But when his father’s scandal erupted, he plummeted from the heights overnight, utterly powerless.
What was even more terrifying was that he was exhausted. He no longer wanted to fight. He pushed all blame onto others, seeking temporary relief through condemnation, barely surviving in the muck and darkness.
His insignificance, his despicableness, his ugliness—he couldn’t face himself, nor could he face others. He tried to drag everyone down with him just to justify his actions. That was his way of escaping the truth of his own soul.
He despised himself for it, yet he continued to wallow in the darkness, decaying.
So, this was what his soul amounted to—insignificant and worthless.
And yet—
The cruelest and most ironic truth was that unless he confronted himself, he could never be saved. No one could rescue him—neither family, friendship, nor love—unless he had the courage to face his own ugliness and monstrosity. Otherwise, the only outcome was total abandonment.
Upon arriving in this timeline, Anson had tried to leave the past behind, to completely sever the grip of darkness. He wanted the past to remain buried in the mud forever. But after the recent “cat-and-mouse game” and now “Sing Along with the Song,” Anson found himself pulled back into the past, forced to confront that version of himself.
A despicable and fragile soul.
Anson noticed the panic and fear in Joan Carter’s eyes.
Even though he couldn’t fully comprehend her emotions, he knew he had found her weakness. He needed Joan to face the spark between them. He needed her to be his lifeline, his last piece of floating driftwood in this drowning abyss.
No more running.
So, amid his dizziness, a hint of cruelty surfaced in his gaze, as if watching Joan struggle under his grip.
He leaned into the microphone. “‘Big River’ isn’t a duet. Let’s sing ‘Time Goes By’ instead.”
It wasn’t a suggestion. It was a decision.
Joan looked up and saw a deep, sinister gleam in his murky eyes—cruel and triumphant, looking down at her from above.
She finally understood. Johnny had been planning this all along, patiently waiting for the perfect moment.
She had nowhere to run.
Joan took a deep breath, covering the microphone with her hand. Fighting to contain her fury, she forced a smile, yet her voice was gritted with determination.
“Johnny! I won’t sing that song. It’s inappropriate. I recorded it with my ex-husband. I won’t sing it.”
So that’s it—
Joan didn’t want to fuel the flames and make things worse. Imagine this: she had just finalized her divorce, and now she was performing that song with another man?
What would people think of her?
But Johnny had finally seized his opportunity. There was no way he would let Joan escape. He closed the distance between them and lowered his voice. “There’s no better choice.”
In his eyes, a flicker of triumph—cold and ruthless.
But Reece furrowed her brows at the overwhelming stench of alcohol.
She looked up in disbelief at the man before her. He was still as handsome and familiar as ever, yet the soul in his eyes was completely foreign. That domineering, forceful possessiveness distorted his face.
Reece froze for a moment.
A struggle beyond words pulled at her, dragging her into an icy abyss.
She was about to speak when, unexpectedly, the band had already begun playing—
Luther. Marshall. They were all in on it, standing behind Johnny, leaving her no room to resist. This was coercion, plain and simple.
Reece couldn’t believe it. Just moments ago, Anson had been carefree and indifferent, and now, in the blink of an eye, his face morphed into Johnny’s. Reality and illusion blurred into one.
Joan’s breath hitched.
She locked eyes with the man before her. “I won’t sing.”
Johnny’s pupils shrank. Panic flashed through his gaze before he quickly averted his eyes, shifting slightly upward to look at her eyebrows. His voice, unintentionally, carried a hint of pleading.
“Joan, just sing.”
Then, without giving her a chance to refuse, he turned to the microphone and began.
“...I have two arms.”
Reece stared at Anson in disbelief. For 0.01 seconds—a fleeting instant—she didn’t recognize the man before her. Anger and despair surged like a tidal wave inside her, and a crushing sense of helplessness dragged her down.
But she had no time to react.
In the blink of an eye, she forced a smile, lifting the corners of her mouth in a practiced expression, facing the audience. She hurriedly donned her impenetrable mask.
Smile, Joan, smile. It’s just a shell, nothing more—
Like a walking corpse.
At that moment, in that single second, Joan Carter felt a chill creep up from the soles of her feet to the top of her head. A wave of despair froze her heart.
Rage. Fear. Sorrow. Bitterness.
All erupted at once. But beyond that, there was confusion—disillusionment.
People always said there was no sincerity in the world of fame and fortune, that only fools would bare their hearts and trust so completely in the spotlight’s glow.
Now, she realized—she was that fool.
(End of Chapter)
*Chapter 1374: Unable to Resist*
Surrounded on all sides, with no way to retreat.
June Carter stood barefoot, frozen in place. The cold, grimy wooden floor sent a chill through her soles, creeping into her body, yet she couldn’t move.
Not even a single finger.
There was no light in June Carter’s eyes, yet her lips curled into a familiar smile—practiced and perfect, like a porcelain doll.
Then, she leaned closer to the microphone, absentmindedly following Johnny’s lead, aligning with the melody.
"I got arms."
She tried her best to conceal it, but her voice… was devoid of warmth. The coldness, the detachment—it was impossible to hide.
The most absurd, the most ridiculous part? Even so, her pitch and rhythm remained flawless.
Seamlessly, they transitioned into the chorus, June Carter and Johnny harmonizing effortlessly.
"Let’s use them together."
Then, June Carter let her voice soar.
"Come on…"
A trace of self-mockery lingered in her smile.
Absurd. Melancholic. Laughable.
She felt utterly hopeless—basking in the spotlight, her face and soul gradually fading into a blur.
But Johnny didn’t notice. He gazed at her with devotion, his smile fully blooming. Eyes locked onto her face, he joined her once again, his voice rich with emotion.
"Time’s a-wastin’."
*Clap. Clap. Clap.*
The entire theater was immersed in the melody, hands clapping in rhythm, becoming part of the band. The joyful energy elevated the performance.
It made Johnny’s heart tremble.
A soft, indescribable happiness coursed through him like an electric current, and for once, his deep voice carried an unmistakable excitement. His phrasing revealed a hint of urgency, a spark of passion.
"I got lips."
Johnny sang, eyes fixed on June Carter’s lips.
June Carter responded, "I got lips."
The next line was meant to be a duet. Though Johnny was already close to the microphone, he couldn’t resist leaning in further—his lips nearly touching hers. Their breaths intertwined, their voices weaving together in an intimate harmony.
"Let’s use them together."
June Carter noticed Johnny’s gaze—hungry, piercing, scorching like fire against her lips.
"Come on…" She shot him a quick glance.
Frustration. Annoyance. Resentment.
And yet, in Johnny’s pure, guileless, uncontainable joy, June Carter could feel it too—that infectious, untainted happiness.
She wasn’t made of stone.
For just a fleeting moment—a very, very brief moment—she found herself caught between amusement and exasperation. Looking at Johnny like this, she couldn’t stay mad. In fact, she almost wanted to laugh.
Absurd.
For a split second, she wasn’t sure if she found him ridiculous, or if she found herself ridiculous.
Either way, her lips curled into a genuine smile this time, one that reached her eyes.
Softly, secretly, it blossomed under the spotlight.
Johnny leaned into the microphone again, his voice blending with hers.
"Time’s a-wastin’."
Their eyes met, smiles mirrored—just for a moment. But the warmth in their voices made the notes dance.
Maybe… it was just a performance. Just a song. It didn’t mean anything. There was no need to overthink it. Besides, the audience was innocent. They had bought their tickets expecting a joyful show. She couldn’t disappoint them. There was no reason to attach unnecessary meaning to a simple duet.
Besides, they were already halfway through. No point in keeping a stiff face now, right?
June Carter let go of the tension inside her, little by little. The rhythm of the stand-up bass pulsed beneath them, and without realizing it, the hem of her dress began to sway.
Not just her smile—her voice lightened too.
"If you don’t mix the batter and bake it, the cake won’t be good to eat…"
With a touch of playfulness, she stretched the final note, a teasing lilt in her tone. The audience caught on immediately—laughter and cheers erupted through the theater.
June Carter turned to Johnny.
Johnny, already attuned to the shift in her energy, lit up. His eyes gleamed, reflecting the woman before him.
In those eyes, a universe of stars.
And just like that, he made the mistake of looking directly into hers.
For a split second, his face flushed red—like a boy experiencing his first crush. His gaze wavered in flustered panic.
Johnny covered his embarrassment with a wide grin.
"If you don’t take the trouble to move, love is nothing but a bubble…"
Their eyes met again.
*Unspoken. Undeniable. Unstoppable.*
You look at me. I look at you.
In that fleeting moment, an unshakable connection sparked between them.
Uncontrollably, irresistibly, their heartbeats quickened, swept away in the music’s embrace.
Without question, this was a love song—a duet crafted for romance.
The sweetness, the bliss—it filled the space between them, blooming with every note of their call-and-response harmony.
"If you’ll be my lovin’ baby, I will be your…"
June Carter’s voice lifted, caught in the music, carried by emotion.
"Come on…"
With skill and sincerity, she stretched the final note, glancing first at the audience, then back at Johnny.
As their eyes met once more, she delivered a flawless, swooping finish—like a boomerang spinning through the air.
A smile tugged at her lips.
Emotion flickered in her gaze, colliding with Johnny’s.
His eyes—deep, unwavering—held nothing but her.
Undivided. Unshaken. Unyielding.
In an instant, it struck her heart.
And suddenly, their voices brimmed with sweetness, their lips curving in perfect symmetry.
"Time’s a-wastin’!"
*Cheers. Whistles. Applause.*
The audience erupted, swept up in the moment. The theater pulsed with energy.
For a moment, June Carter allowed herself to bask in it. No more restraint. No more hesitation.
Her laughter spilled freely, the world glowing a little brighter.
For the first time in a long time…
She could enjoy the performance again.
Her gaze softened, sweeping over the crowd. She met their eyes, engaging them, sharing the moment.
Then—she saw her.
A woman.
Dressed elegantly, unmistakably poised.
June Carter didn’t know her.
But she saw her.
Arms crossed, expressionless, cold.
Her gaze held no warmth—only judgment.
Critical. Disdainful. Unconcealed contempt.
Like a bucket of ice water dumped over her head, June Carter froze.
Her skin prickled.
In their eyes, she was an adulteress. A woman who abandoned her home. A woman who paraded herself in public, leaving behind her husband and child.
A woman unworthy of heaven.
A woman who defied tradition.
Just one look—one piercing glance—was enough.
She wasn’t just subjected to the scrutiny of men.
She was scrutinized by women, too.
Like a sinner in the stocks, condemned by every passing gaze.
She tried to steady herself, to remind herself that other people’s opinions didn’t matter.
But the world didn’t work that way.
One look.
That was all it took to yank her out of the warmth of the music—dragging her back to the cold, harsh reality.
(End of Chapter.)
*Chapter 1375: Self-Destructive Tendencies*
A single glance was enough to awaken the reality in June Carter’s mind—
Everything she had to bear, everything she had to face, everything she had to endure. The suffering and pain, the repression and chaos, all came crashing down like a flood.
In an instant, she was drowning.
The smile at the corner of her lips stiffened slightly before slowly fading away, bit by bit. She became lost in thought, overwhelmed by a tidal wave of emotions.
Confusion. Doubt. Loss.
How was she supposed to keep going? Should she continue living in the spotlight, surrounded by scrutiny and judgment? Or should she turn her back on it all and retreat into solitude?
And how was she supposed to explain to Johnny that things weren’t so simple? They weren’t children anymore. Love alone wasn’t enough to make everything go their way.
Should she remain single? Had she lost the right to chase after her own happiness? Would she forever be labeled a failure in marriage, left with no place to belong?
Her thoughts erupted like a volcano—chaotic, tangled, impossible to sort out.
This reminded Reese of earlier.
The entire set was buzzing with gossip. Reese couldn’t help but worry about Anson—genuinely worry about him—because she had been in his shoes before. She knew how much pressure hid behind the glitz and glamour. She extended an olive branch, offering kindness.
Reese truly liked Anson—as an actor, as a colleague.
But what about Anson?
He brushed it off as if it didn’t matter, as if he was completely unaffected. That carefree attitude made her feel like a fool. Her concern and sincerity must have seemed utterly ridiculous to him.
People were different. And the differences between men and women were even greater. Not always, but society was often more forgiving toward men.
After all, as the classic song goes, this was a “man’s, man’s, man’s world.”
And it wasn’t just Anson.
Ryan Phillippe was the same.
As a fellow actor, Reese had assumed Ryan would be rational, that he would understand the demands of her work.
She had never once complained about Ryan’s roles, even when they required intimate scenes. She had always reminded herself—it was just work.
But Ryan?
Ever since he found out she would be filming Walk the Line with Anson, he had been sarcastic and combative, picking fights over things that had nothing to do with the script. He simply disliked Anson. To the point where he even asked Reese to quit the film.
Reese thought Ryan was being ridiculous. She had no reason—no obligation—to sacrifice her career over his petty jealousy.
Just imagine if the roles were reversed. If Reese had been the one acting out, demanding Ryan turn down a role for the sake of their marriage, how would the world have judged her? How harshly would they have criticized her?
So she refused.
She was an actress. She had her own career, her own life.
Yes, she loved Ryan—deeply. Yes, they had built a beautiful marriage and brought two children into the world. But she refused to give up her dreams.
Before she was Ryan’s wife, before she was a mother, she was Reese Witherspoon. And if she wasn’t complete as herself, how could she possibly fulfill those other roles? If she couldn’t even recognize her own existence, how could she be a wife or a mother?
Damn it!
Again and again, she found herself trapped in these situations, suffocating under their weight.
She couldn’t breathe.
Johnny had been watching June Carter the entire time. His eyes never left her, lost in the melody of happiness.
He could feel it—the warmth and sweetness in her voice. He knew she wasn’t indifferent, that she felt the same way he did. It confirmed his suspicions. But what he didn’t understand was why she kept rejecting him, why she kept pushing him away. He couldn’t see the reason.
Then, once again, he saw her hesitation.
For a brief moment, she peeked out from her shell, revealing a hint of her true feelings. But just as quickly, she withdrew, shutting herself off once more.
Johnny felt helpless. His eyes filled with disappointment, with sorrow.
What was he supposed to do?
How could he make her understand his feelings? How could he break through her walls? How could he shatter the fragile barrier between them?
In the blink of an eye, countless thoughts crashed through his mind.
A dizzying rush. A blinding impulse—dangerous, reckless, and yet impossible to resist.
His rational mind pulled back, reining him in. He held his breath.
But the more he fought it, the stronger the urge became. His thoughts were a tangled mess, his heart pounding wildly, his head spinning from the drunken haze of emotions. The music, the harmonies, created a perfect illusion—happiness felt so close, within his grasp. If he just dared to reach out, to take that leap, he could have everything he had ever dreamed of.
And so—
He did.
As if possessed, he leaned in and pressed a kiss against her soft, delicate cheek.
A fleeting touch—warm and gentle like a cloud.
But before he could even process the sensation, reality snapped back into place.
He blinked, momentarily dazed.
June Carter froze as well. She had been lost in her own storm of thoughts, unprepared for the sudden ambush. On instinct, she lifted her head to look at Johnny.
For a split second, confusion flashed in her eyes.
Then, everything shattered.
A chilling rage, sharp as ice, wiped away all traces of warmth and affection.
Humiliation and fury surged through her, uncontrollable, indescribable.
She stared at Johnny, her face unreadable, her expression cold and detached.
“Don’t. Do. That.”
Each word was clipped, precise, absolute. Her gaze was empty, the light in her eyes completely extinguished.
She met his stare—unflinching.
Cold. Resolute. Unyielding.
She refused to be conquered. She refused to be claimed as a prize. She refused to be treated like a doll, an object to be moved at someone’s whim. She refused to surrender, to compromise, to endure in silence.
She locked eyes with him, the fury she had been suppressing finally breaking free.
Johnny stiffened.
June Carter didn’t give him a chance to react.
Without hesitation, she turned and walked away. No hesitation, no regret, no second-guessing.
Her posture was straight, dignified. She wanted to leave with her head held high.
But in the end, she couldn’t hold on.
Before she even made it off the stage, her shoulders curled inward, her arms wrapped around herself, and her hands covered her face.
She ran.
Ducking behind the curtains, she let them shield her from the world. She didn’t even realize she had left her slippers behind. She just kept running.
On the outside, she was strong and fearless.
But she was still a woman.
A woman raised under the weight of tradition. A woman with unwavering faith. A woman trapped between societal expectations and her own desires.
In the end, she couldn’t escape the pain.
Tears burned down her cheeks.
(End of Chapter)
