: The Roasted Sweet Potato

2

My eyes started to sting, so I gently closed them. But scenes from the past flooded my mind, impossible to shake.

One of the earliest things fans dug up from Alistair Hawthorne's social media was a post with a photo of a roasted sweet potato. The caption read: "As autumn deepens into winter, only love's sweetness remains."

He had just gotten famous back then, and when his fans unearthed that post, it even started trending online.

Speculation ran wild online. Some guessed he must have had a loving partner in his early years. At the time, I hid behind my screen, scrolling through the comments one by one, my heart filled with a sweet, secret joy.

We'd come so far together. But through all the times we were photographed, all the moments fans spun baseless rumors, and through all of Alistair Hawthorne's silences, I should have admitted to myself long ago that everything had changed.

Not long after we got together, Alistair Hawthorne mentioned offhandedly that he admired actors and wanted to try acting if he ever got the chance.

I silently took his words to heart, staying up all night to meticulously prepare his portfolio and submit it to a talent agency.

Alistair Hawthorne had a good foundation, and under my influence, he gradually learned how to dress well. His portfolio was quickly approved, and he signed a contract without a hitch.

After a period of being an unknown actor, I saw a casting call for a web series.

I knew instantly that the lead actor's role was tailor-made for Alistair Hawthorne. A gentle, refined scholar with an air of unimpeachable righteousness. The script, filled with patriotic themes, would perfectly complement that persona.

I encouraged him to audition and paid out of my own pocket to hire a renowned acting coach to tutor him over and over again. After I finished work, I'd go with him to his lessons, staying up late into the night without feeling the slightest bit tired.

Sure enough, my efforts weren't in vain. He stood out from the crowd of auditioners and successfully landed the role.

The day he got the call from the director, we went to the beach. We brought a few beers and some snacks from a convenience store and just talked and ate while watching the last rays of the sun sink below the horizon.

Back then, we had so much to talk about—the show, the future, everything from idiot directors to our dreams for life. It felt like we could talk forever and never run out of things to say.

Our souls were so in sync that we could understand each other with a single glance.

After night fell, I snuggled into his arms and took out the fireworks I had prepared earlier.

Brilliant fireworks on a beach at night. To this day, I can still see his face, flickering in the light of the explosions, his smile so gentle in every single moment.

He held me and spun me around on the sand without a care in the world. Our laughter carried for several yards as we paid no mind to anyone else's stares.

My judgment proved correct. The series was different from the usual clichéd scripts, and it quickly generated a huge buzz after it aired. As the lead actor, he naturally shot to fame overnight.

Everything happened very quickly after that. Alistair Hawthorne was packaged by his agency, which cultivated a 'perfect gentleman' persona for him. His past was almost completely erased. He was no longer my assistant, but a top graduate from a prestigious university.

Alistair Hawthorne started appearing on talk shows and variety programs, landed endorsement deals, and was constantly flying all over the country.

At the time, another part of his public image was that he cherished his fans. This coincided with another top star being exposed for privately cursing at fans, and the contrast between them allowed him to quickly gain a huge wave of popularity.

In reality, that incident happened because I was pretending to be a fan waiting for him at the airport. He saw that I was about to be knocked over by the other fans crowding around and, in a moment of panic, reached out to steady me.

I still have the GIF from that day saved on my phone. Even though he was wearing a mask, the concern in his eyes was unmistakable.

After that, he got busier and busier. He often had no time for dates, and his replies to my messages grew gradually more perfunctory.

I always told him I understood, but I knew, deep down, that the change in his attitude began when he started working with Raina Rhodes.

The two of them were co-starring in a series, and rumors about them started popping up frequently during that time.

Once, I was scrolling online and saw a post from Raina Rhodes showing her eating a roasted sweet potato. In the top right corner of the photo, a corner of a sleeve was visible.

Some sharp-eyed fans noticed it immediately and asked if it was Alistair Hawthorne. Raina Rhodes denied it, though, saying it was just a crew member.

But that shirt was a custom-made one I had given him for his birthday. Even the embroidery on the sleeve was identical.

Later, I discovered that he had deleted that old roasted sweet potato post, along with other posts related to me. Everything was gone, without a single trace left behind.

When I asked him about it, he gave me what seemed like a perfectly reasonable explanation: "I was afraid if I left those up, fans would misunderstand and think there's something between me and Raina Rhodes. The shippers are getting pretty intense right now, and I don't want you to get jealous."

His tone was as gentle as ever. I just smiled and didn't say anything.

The very next day, he posted a photo of himself eating on set. In the picture was another roasted sweet potato, the same brand as the one Raina was eating.

The fans went even wilder. Both he and Raina Rhodes remained completely silent, allowing the public speculation to run rampant.

Alistair Hawthorne didn't offer me any further explanation. Perhaps he thought that since I was always so understanding, he didn't need to bother taking my feelings into account.

But from that moment on, I knew. Something had definitely happened between him and Raina Rhodes.

After all, that brand of roasted sweet potatoes was only sold in the city, a long way from where the production was filming.

3

The next day, I took a taxi by myself, carrying a bag of beer and snacks I'd just had delivered from a convenience store, and headed to Alistair Hawthorne's place.

I knew he was home. I wanted to confront him and get a straight answer. After all, everything was just hearsay, and I wasn't ready to give up on our years-long relationship so easily.

But halfway there, a notification popped up on my phone.

"Alistair Hawthorne's Exclusive Interview: I'm Not With Raina Rhodes!"

My eyes lit up, and I clicked on the video.

Alistair Hawthorne must have just finished recording a show. He faced the microphones and cameras, a faint weariness visible in his expression.

When asked about the photos of him and Raina Rhodes, his lips curved into a smile.

"We're not together yet. But I'm pursuing her."

'I'm pursuing her.'

Those three words rang clearly in my ears, striking me like a bolt of lightning.

His voice continued from my phone. "I was just seeing her home that day, so I hope no one gets the wrong idea. Please give me a chance to win over the woman of my dreams."

As Alistair Hawthorne spoke, a hint of nervousness tinged his smile—the exact same expression he'd worn when he confessed his feelings to me years ago.

He'd smiled just like that when he asked me, "The weather's great today. Want to be my girlfriend?"

The off-camera reporters laughed along with him, and the air filled with cheers of admiration.

But in the quiet of the taxi, those sounds felt bitterly ironic.

The driver must have noticed I hadn't moved in a while. He glanced at me in the rearview mirror and commented casually, "Alistair Hawthorne, huh? He's pretty famous. Those rumors about him and Raina Rhodes have been flying around for ages. Didn't realize he hadn't won her over yet. A man truly, madly in love, I guess."

'Yeah. Truly, madly in love.'

I snapped back to reality and blankly switched off the video. I was about to tell the driver to turn around, but when I looked up, we were already stopped at the entrance to his gated community.

"We're here!"

'Well, I'm already here.'

When that old cliché popped into my head, I almost let out an inappropriate laugh.

After paying via the app, I opened the car door. I never imagined that in the few moments it took me to pull down my mask and scan my face to enter the community, a huge crowd would swarm me from behind.

"Yvonne Sinclair! What are you doing here at Alistair Hawthorne's building? Are you here to see him?!"

"There were rumors that you were the one pursuing Alistair Hawthorne. Is there any truth to that?"

"You and Alistair Hawthorne have been photographed together on multiple occasions. Are you two in a relationship?"

"As a fellow celebrity, do you know anything about how things are progressing between Alistair Hawthorne and Raina Rhodes?"

A forest of cameras was pointed at me, the reporters' questions hitting me in an endless barrage.

I gave a faint smile and chose to answer only the last question. "As a friend, I wish them the best."

My answer obviously didn't satisfy them. They pressed in closer. "So, what brings you to his doorstep at a time like this?"

I lied, my face a blank mask. "I'm here to see a friend."

It was clear they didn't believe me and were about to press further. Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted a man just walking out of the community and grabbed him at random.

I clutched the stranger's arm and announced without batting an eye, "See? My friend's here to get me. We're heading in now."

With that, I dragged the man with me and walked away.

The security at this community was tight, so the reporters couldn't follow. Once we were inside, I let go of the man's arm.

"I'm so sorry about that. Those reporters were after me. If you wait a bit and put on a mask, you should be able to leave without any trouble."

I finished and let out a soft sigh. With reporters camped out there, it looked like I wouldn't be able to leave through the main gate for a while.

"Hey, you look really familiar. Aren't you that—"

The man beside me spoke up. I turned to look at him and nodded calmly. "That's right. I'm that famous toad."

The man let out a snort of laughter.

It was only then that I realized the man I'd randomly grabbed was actually quite handsome. He didn't look very old, dressed like a recent college graduate.

He spoke up. "Those reporters are camped out there, so you probably don't have anywhere to go. Want to come to my place and wait it out?"

I frowned instantly.

He seemed to catch my hesitation and added, "We have to make the act convincing, right?"

He had a point. If some resourceful paparazzo managed to sneak into the community and found me alone, my little performance would have been for nothing.

I nodded. "Alright then. Thank you."

As I walked with him, my mind drifted back to a time a year ago, when Alistair Hawthorne and I were spotted by the paparazzi.

I'd gone to pick him up that day, and when we spotted them, Alistair grabbed my hand and took off running.

I stumbled along behind him as we fled through the back door, losing the paparazzi in our wake.

The sunset was beautiful that day, painting the sky in vibrant colors and bathing the boy I loved in a golden light.

We ran all the way to the beach that day.

I remember asking him, "Running through the streets so openly like this... aren't you afraid of being recognized?"

His eyes sparkled as he stood on the beach in the fading light. He scratched his head, his voice both gentle and solemn. "Yvonne, I want to build a home with you. I hope that day comes soon."

My reverie was broken by the man's voice. By then, we were already sitting in his garden, drinking tea.

"Right. For that case... yes, you can just put my name down as the person in charge. Gideon Monroe."

He hung up and, noticing me staring, raised a questioning eyebrow.

I couldn't help but ask, "You're *the* Gideon Monroe?"

'It has to be him,' I thought. 'The name, the identity, the age... What a coincidence.'

Gideon Monroe blinked, looking utterly baffled. "Which Gideon Monroe?"

I shook my head, not wanting to elaborate. "It's nothing. Thanks for letting me hide out here, but I should go now."

As I said this, I stood up to leave, and Gideon Monroe shot to his feet as well.

"Hey, you... where are you off to?"

I found his question odd, but I answered good-naturedly, "To see my ex-to-be."