"That person is Kate Sullivan!"

"Thank you for coming into my life. Every time I was on the verge of giving up, you gave me the courage to keep going."

The spotlight swung onto Kate.

She gasped, covering her mouth, her smile shy and radiant.

Noah's expression softened, his voice even softer.

"Welcome back, my shining star."

The audience erupted. Chants of "Get together!" rolled through the auditorium like a wave threatening to bring the house down.

Online, fans lost their minds, flooding the comments with "They're perfect for each other" and demanding to see them tie the knot.

I scrolled through the comments, then looked down at the ring box in my hand—the one I'd spent a year picking out. My nose stung.

For five years, I'd turned down every invitation from Chris, one of the top directors in the world, just to put Noah on that pedestal. I'd locked myself inside my eighty-square-foot study, crafting every role to fit him like a second skin, polishing each line word by word.

Once, I rewrote an emotional turning point for three days straight without sleep, just so one of his crying scenes would hit harder.

Everyone in the industry said Noah Henson was born lucky—that from the very start, he'd always landed scripts tailor-made for him. What they didn't know was that every soul-stirring performance that made audiences fall in love with him had been carved out of my own heart, piece by painstaking piece.

And now, at the crowning moment of his career, he'd erased the name of the person most responsible for getting him there.

Why?

He was the one who'd taken my hand first, told me to forget the past, and promised we'd build a new life together.

He was the one who'd promised to propose tonight—to make me the happiest woman alive.

I couldn't make sense of it.

When Noah and his manager, Marcus Dickerson, slipped away to the greenroom during a break, I dodged everyone and followed.

My hand had just touched the door handle.

But the voices inside reached me first.

"Noah, have you lost your mind?"

Marcus was barely keeping his anger in check.

"Three months ago, you said once you won the Golden Dragon, you'd marry Rosalie. We spent an entire month convincing the company. PR had the whole rollout mapped. The proposal, the ring—everything was ready to go."

"But up there on that stage, you didn't mention Rosalie once. Instead you brought up Kate. How do you think that makes her feel?"

A brief silence filled the room.

Noah took a drag of his cigarette, his expression half-hidden in shadow—cold and unreadable.

"Kate just went through a divorce. She's having a rough time."

"She overthinks things. If her comeback doesn't go well, she'll spiral."

"She came to me for help. All I did was throw her a bone—a little buzz, a little publicity. That's it."

Marcus stamped his foot in frustration.

"And what about Rosalie? Do you have any idea how much she's given for you over the years?"

"That new script, Gale Force—she spent a whole year on it. Every ounce of her went into that, all for you!"

"If you push her away and she leaves, then what? What are you going to do?"

Silence swallowed the room.

I stood outside the crack in the door, holding my breath, waiting for his answer.

Waiting for one reason—just one—to stay.

"She won't mind."

Noah's voice was so certain it sent a chill through me.

"She loves me. Even if I don't propose, she'll stay by my side."

My fingertips curled tighter, one knuckle at a time. My chest couldn't find air.

"Besides, she's not like Kate. She's tough. She'll understand."

As he spoke, he tore Marcus's proposal plan in half.

Then tossed it into the trash like garbage.

"The proposal can wait. Bringing it up now would steal Kate's spotlight."

The shredded paper caught the light, blindingly white.

I stood in the dim corridor.

For the first time, our five years together felt like a joke.

But he was right about one thing.

I did have a strong heart.

Strong enough for this moment.

I didn't push open the door. I didn't scream or demand answers.

Even though my eyes burned and the bridge of my nose ached with the effort of holding back, I didn't allow myself a single tear.

I just stood there, very quietly, and took out my phone.

Block.

Delete.

Clear all.

Over three thousand photos together, vanishing one by one before my eyes.

Just like the five years with Noah.

Fading from memory, bit by bit.

Only when there was nothing left on my phone connected to the name "Noah Henson" did I put it away and turn to leave.

I was almost at the exit when the overseas call from director Chris Hargrove came through again.

"Rosalie, have you thought about my offer? The screenwriter seat on Riptide has your name on it. But you'd need to leave tonight. We have an emergency workshop in London tomorrow."

Every time before, I'd said no.

This time, I said yes.

By the time I took my coat from the attendant at the door, I'd already booked a three a.m. red-eye to London.

When I sent Chris the confirmation, he let out a shriek of excitement.

"Fantastic! Rosalie, you're finally willing to leave that pretty-boy boyfriend of yours. I'll arrange everything you need."

"Including our finest London gentlemen."

That got a laugh out of me.

I was about to reply when my phone was snatched from my hand.

Noah's voice exploded from above my head.

"What London gentlemen?"

I didn't answer. I just grabbed my phone back.

Noah's attention shifted instantly. He ruffled my hair and grinned.

"What's wrong, still mad I didn't propose at the Golden Dragon Awards?"

"There were reasons for that."

He pulled me into a dim corridor, resting his chin on my shoulder, trying to explain.

"Kate and I aren't just classmates. When we were kids, she actually saved my—"

Before he could finish, his phone erupted with a shrill ringtone.

The name on the screen: Kate Sullivan.

The moment he picked up, his tone shifted to something urgent.

"Okay. Stay right there. I'm on my way."

He hung up and pressed a hurried kiss to the top of my head.

"Rosalie, some creep's been harassing Kate. I'll be right back. Wait for me at home and I'll explain everything, okay?"

If he'd cared about me even a fraction more, he would have seen the London flight confirmation on my phone screen.

But he didn't.

I watched his figure shrink down the corridor until it disappeared. My hand pressed against my chest, against the sharp, stuttering ache beneath my ribs.

Home?

Since when did we have a home?

I pulled out my phone and booked a moving company on the spot.

Once my things were out of his place and back in my own apartment, I could leave for London with nothing holding me back.

I was about to lock my screen when a cascade of trending notifications popped up, all about Noah and Kate.

[BREAKING: Romance rumors surface — Best Actor spotted escorting Kate Sullivan from venue late at night]

[HOT: Pair seen sharing a car, intimate gestures, possible kiss]

My thumb froze.

I tapped the link.

In the video, the lighting was dim. Noah was shielding Kate, guiding her quickly through the crowd. She was pressed against his chest, fingers clutching the front of his jacket. And he was leaning down, his lips about to brush her forehead.

Like a knight protecting his princess.

The comments section had already erupted.

[Is this the woman Best Actor Henson thanked onstage? She's gorgeous. They look perfect together.]

[They haven't even made it official yet and I'm already obsessed with this couple.]

[What about Rosalie Pruitt? Wasn't there a rumor she's his actual girlfriend?]

[Girlfriend? Please. She's a nobody. If Noah hadn't starred in her scripts, she'd still be wandering around in obscurity. As if she's anywhere near his league.]

Seconded. No way some screenwriter is prettier than Kate. A hottie like him deserves a real beauty.

I scoffed and liked every single one of those comments.

Back at the villa, I was directing the movers when Marcus called.

"Ms. Pruitt, I just saw what's trending. Let me explain before you get the wrong idea. Noah and Kate are just friends!"

I didn't respond to that. I just asked where Noah was.

He faltered, unsure how to answer.

I laughed.

"He's at the hospital with Kate, isn't he?"

A minute earlier, I'd already seen the video. Noah at her bedside, spoon-feeding her porridge.

Five years together, and even when I had a fever, he'd never once fed me like that.

Noah always said the same thing.

He was busy. He liked girls who were strong.

So I learned to sit through IV drips alone. Learned to take care of myself when I was burning up.

I tried not to be a burden.

But then Kate came back.

Suddenly he wasn't busy anymore. Suddenly it wasn't a hassle.

Marcus sounded even more uncomfortable, his explanation hollow.

"Yes, he's with Ms. Sullivan."

"But there's nothing intimate going on. There are other people in the room..."

"Save it. None of that matters to me anymore."

I looked around the villa, already half-empty, and spoke slowly, deliberately.

"Tell Noah. I'm done. We're over."

Marcus tried to say something else, but I'd already hung up.

When the last box was carried out, I stood in the doorway and looked back.

The closet, cleared out.

The desk, gone.

Even the mug I always used in the kitchen had been tossed into a box.

Four years of living here.

Turns out one night was all it took to erase every trace.

Before getting into the car, I pulled the ring from my bag. The one engraved with both our names.

I'd planned to give it to him tonight.

I looked at it for two seconds.

Then I dropped it into the trash can on the curb.

At the airport, my phone buzzed with a friend request from an unknown number.

The moment I accepted, a photo came through.

A woman's ring finger, a diamond glittering under the light, almost blinding.

Noah gave me this ring. Isn't it gorgeous?

I stared at it for two seconds. Then I smiled.

Kate Sullivan.

She really did know how to make a person sick.

I didn't bother replying. Blocked.

But there was no way I was swallowing this.

I immediately sent Marcus an email.

A full revocation of Noah's filming rights to Gale Force.

And, as sole copyright holder of the screenplay, a unilateral termination of all collaboration with Noah Henson's studio.

One second later, my phone exploded.

"Rosalie! Have you lost your mind?"

Marcus was practically shouting.

"What is this copyright revocation letter supposed to mean?"

"Noah just locked in the investors. They're set to start shooting next month! Do you have any idea how much money is riding on this script?"

"You pull the rights now, and you'll destroy him!"

My voice was flat.

"Destroy him?"

"Marcus, you've got it backwards."

"I wrote that script. I decide who gets it."

He went quiet for a beat, then softened his tone.

"But you two are a couple. You're supposed to spend your lives together. How can you stab him in the back like this?"

"I already explained. There's nothing between him and Kate. I can guarantee you, you're the only one Noah cares about."

"Three months ago, he told us he was going to propose—"

"Enough."

I rubbed my temples, exhaustion settling deep into my bones.

"His reasons don't matter."

"What matters is that he chose to throw me away."