“All men are liars.” With these words, Violette ended her radio show. Her life experiences and the countless stories she heard from her listeners had proven it. But a meeting with a coworker led her to question her belief. After a call from a stranger, she was convinced she had been right all along.
Violet sat comfortably in her chair, leaning slightly toward the microphone in the cozy, dimly lit studio of a local radio station.
The soft hum of the equipment and the low hum of the control panel lights cast a warm, golden glow around the room.
Opposite her was James, her co-host, with a more relaxed posture, his fingers tapping rhythmically on the table as they listened to the voice crackling through the speakers.
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“He’s moving away from me…” Susan’s voice trembled and a choked sob escaped.
“I don’t know what to do. We hardly talk anymore. I never thought I’d turn to a radio show for advice, but I don’t have anyone else who will listen.”
Violet adjusted her headphones, her expression softening.
“Don’t worry, Suzy, is that it? Is that your name?”
His voice was calm, like the steady rhythm of a heartbeat, offering comfort through the static.
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“Yes, it’s Susan,” the caller confirms, breathless.
“Well, Suzy, that’s why we have this segment—to help people like you who are struggling with relationships. Thank you for sharing your story. That’s brave of you.”
Susan hesitated before asking, “So… what do you think I should do, Violet?”
Violet sat up straight in her chair, her tone sharp but controlled.
“The same thing I always say: forget him. He’s either cheating on you or he’s pulling your leg. Either way, you deserve better.”
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James looked up and raised an eyebrow.
“Violet, maybe we shouldn’t jump to conclusions. It could be anything—work stress, personal problems. Maybe he doesn’t know how to communicate.”
Violet gave him a sideways glance.
“Or maybe he has a mistress,” she said dryly. “Let’s not exaggerate. All men are liars.”
The tension hung for a moment, but Violette quickly turned back to the microphone, her professional smile firmly in place.
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“Thanks for listening, guys. Enjoy the next song.” She flicked the switch, muting their microphones.
The music filled the studio and Violet leaned back, a small smile playing on her lips.
Jacques, for his part, shook his head slightly, not knowing whether to insist or let it go.
The studio lights dim slightly as the end-of-shift silence settled over the room.
Violet gathered her things—her notebook, her headphones, and an oversized scarf that she draped over her shoulder.
She moved with her usual ease, but her mind was already on the comforts of home and a hot cup of tea.
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James lingered by the console, shifting from foot to foot.
His usual demeanor seemed absent, replaced by a noticeable nervousness. Finally, he approached, clearing his throat.
“You were ruthless with the men today, as usual,” he said, giving her a sheepish smile. His attempt at humor was met with a raised eyebrow.
Violet stopped and looked at him.
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“You’ve been here for six months, James,” she replied flatly. “I thought you’d have already figured out what our audience expects.”
“So it’s just for the ratings?” James asked, tilting his head.
“You don’t really believe all that?”
Violet shrugged, her expression unreadable.
“I never said that. What do you want, James? I was just about to go home.”
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James rubbed the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at her. “Well, uh… I wanted to ask you…” His words trailed off as his confidence wavered.
“Spit it out,” Violet said, smiling slightly, amused by his clumsiness. “Talking is supposed to be your job.”
He chuckled nervously, his face flushing. “Would you, uh… go out with me?”
“A date?” Violet blinked, taken aback. “Like a date?”
“Yes. Exactly. There’s a great place nearby that you might like.”
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Violet hesitated, shifting her bag onto her shoulder. “James, you know I’m not much for dates.”
“Because you think all men are liars, is that it?” James teased her. His tone was light but bold. “Let me prove to you that we’re not all that bad. Some of us are quite honest.”
“Most of the time?” Violet repeats, laughing in spite of herself. “Very well. But don’t expect miracles.”
“That’s enough for me,” James said, his smile widening as he grabbed his coat.
The small restaurant looked like a hidden gem, the kind of place you never stumble upon unless someone shows you.
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Candlelight flickered on each table, casting warm, golden hues throughout the room, while the dulcet notes of live jazz floated through the air.
The musicians, seated in a corner, played as if they were part of the room’s heartbeat, their gentle melodies making the space both lively and soothing.
James pulled out a chair for Violet, his movements natural, unforced. Violet raised an eyebrow but couldn’t help but smile as she sat down.
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“Gallantry isn’t dead, I see,” she teased.
“Well, I try,” James said with a smile, taking a seat opposite her.
Violet glanced around, taking in the cozy surroundings.
“This place is lovely,” she admits. “I didn’t know places like this still existed.”
“Judging by the look on your face, you don’t go to places like this often,” James said, leaning forward slightly, his tone playful.
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“I don’t go out often, that’s for sure,” Violette replies, smoothing the napkin on her knees.
“Really? It’s hard to believe. A radio host and such a beauty? You must have admirers.”
Violet’s cheeks turned pink, and she waved him off.
“Stop. I’ve been on dates, but I stopped a long time ago. I always felt like I was wasting my time.”
James tilted his head, curiosity flickering in his eyes. “Why is that?”
Violet hesitated before answering.
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“After dealing with betrayal, lies, and hearing all those stories on the show… It’s hard to believe in love anymore.”
James’s expression softened.
“Well,” he said quietly, “we’re not all that bad.”
“All men say that,” Violet sighed, leaning back in her chair.
James chuckled but didn’t press the issue further. Instead, he began sharing a story about his childhood, painting vivid pictures of his clumsy adventures that made Violet giggle.
The conversation naturally moved from funny anecdotes to deeper reflections on their lives.
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Violet felt relaxed in a way she hadn’t expected, her guard lowering with every shared laugh.
“See?” James said, smiling as she wiped away tears of laughter. “It’s not so bad spending time with me, is it?”
“Don’t get your hopes up,” Violette replies, though her smile betrays her words.
James stood up and gestured toward the bathroom. “I’ll be right back. But I want to hear the rest of your story about the bird when I get back.”
“Hurry up, or I’ll forget it,” Violet called after him, still giggling as she sipped her water.
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His phone buzzed on the table, interrupting his thoughts.
She frowned at the unfamiliar number and hesitated, but curiosity got the better of her.
“Hello?” she replies.
“Hello, it’s Jane,” said a hesitant voice on the other end of the line.
“Sorry to call so late, but James hasn’t come home, and your number is the only one I could find. Is he with you?”
“Jane?” Violetta asked, her voice suddenly strained. “Are you his sister?”
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“Sister? No, I’m his girlfriend,” Jane replied abruptly, the words cutting through the air like a knife.
Violet froze, the warmth of the evening drained away. Her heart pounded as Jane’s words echoed in her ears.
Without answering, she hung up, her hands shaking.
She grabs her bag, scarf, and coat and walks briskly out of the restaurant, leaving behind the candlelight, the music, and the man she thought could have been different.
The next day, Violet walked briskly into the radio station’s studio, her scarf loosely draped around her neck.
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His expression, however, was anything but usual. It was cold, distant, like a slammed door.
She avoided eye contact with James, who was already at the control panel, adjusting the levels and humming softly to himself.
“Hey, Violet,” James called, his voice light. He looked up and smiled, but his smile faded when she walked past him without even a glance.
“I was worried about you last night. You left so suddenly. I tried calling you…”
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“I’m fine,” Violet said, her tone sharp and sharp. She didn’t stop moving, setting her bag down with deliberate force.
James frowned, taking a cautious step towards her.
“Did I do something wrong?” he asked hesitantly, his voice now calmer.
“You tell me,” she growled, finally meeting his gaze, his glare icy. “Or maybe ask Jane.”
The name hit him like a slap, and his brow furrowed. “Jane? How do you know her?”
“Your girlfriend called me,” she said icily. “She wanted to know when you’d be home. Don’t worry, I didn’t keep you too long.”
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“Violet, wait-” James began, his hands raised as if to stop the invisible storm brewing between them.
“One more word,” Violet interrupted, her voice cutting through the room like a blade, “and you’ll be looking for a new job.”
James froze, his mouth half-open, then closed it. He nodded stiffly and returned to his seat, his shoulders slumping slightly.
The day dragged on in icy silence.
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By mid-afternoon, Violet noticed something strange. James didn’t look like a man caught in a lie; he looked genuinely upset.
His face was pale, his expression distant, as if the weight of the world rested on his shoulders.
Curiosity gnawed at her. At the end of the day, she found herself following him as he left the building.
Near the station entrance, a young woman waited. Her arms were crossed, her expression a mixture of anger and despair.
“James! We need to talk!” the woman shouted as she approached.
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James stopped abruptly and sighed. “We have nothing to talk about, Jane,” he said, his voice firm but tired. “I already told you, it’s over between us. It’s been months! Why don’t you just let it go already!”
“But I love you! No one else will ever love you like I do! Not even your coworker!” Jane cried, her voice breaking.
“That’s enough!” James snapped. “Because of the lies you told her, Violet won’t even look at me. I’ve had enough, Jane. Stay out of my life.”
Jane burst into tears, her shoulders shaking as she pleaded one last time, but James didn’t move.
Eventually, she got into her car and drove off, leaving James alone. He collapsed on the steps of the building, burying his face in his hands.
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Violet hesitated before stepping forward. “James…” she said softly. “I heard everything.
He looked up, tired but calm. “Now you know what I was trying to explain,” he said.
“I’m sorry,” Violet said softly, her voice filled with genuine regret. “But can you blame me for assuming the worst?”
“No. But it’s not only men who can lie, as you can see.”
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She managed a small smile, her defenses softening.
“Maybe not. Should we give it another try?”
James straightened, a hint of hope returning to his face.
“Why not?” he replied, a small smile playing on his lips. “After all, this evening has already been full of surprises.”
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