I thought Eddie was going to give the bracelet back to me, but he said it belonged to someone else.

Now it was on Bella's wrist.

"Don't argue with him," Bella said in front of the camera. "I want you two to be happy more than anyone."

I said nothing.

Eddie didn't know.

There was another reason I agreed to join this show, something I could never say out loud.

In truth, I wasn't here for Eddie at all.

Filming took place over the weekend.

On Monday at work, my former boss told me, "Logan and Bella are already divorced. He was on a ten-year contract with her father's company, and it finally ended. He's rebuilding his studio, and I recommended you to him."

I used to work as an agent in an entertainment group.

Following the address she gave me, I went to the studio and saw Logan.

Set against the light, his sharp features were highlighted. It was indeed a face made for the screen, and he looked far more distant than I had imagined.

I waited outside for a long time.

In the end, it was his assistant, Conrad Lowe, who came out. "Sorry, Ms. Stout. We probably can't proceed today."

At 11:00 pm, on the way back, my car broke down. It was raining in the middle of nowhere. I held my umbrella and waited for a tow truck.

Suddenly, a black MPV pulled up, and the window rolled down. Conrad said, "Ms. Stout, please get in first."

Logan was in the back seat with a baseball cap covering his face. He seemed to be asleep.

His breathing was light, and his long legs were slightly bent. The clean scent of pine lingered in the air.

"Ms. Stout, I'm going to the gas station up ahead to grab a bottle of water. I'll be right back," Conrad said softly.

As soon as the door closed, only Logan and I were left in the car.

There were no cameras or staff; only dim light flickered through the dashboard.

Even though we were a seat apart, his breathing felt as if it were right beside my ear.

Outside, faint blue light came from a convenience store where Conrad was browsing the shelves.

Just then, someone in the car kicked my calf.

The long leg stretching from the backseat wasn’t an accident but an intentional, petty, almost childish, rhythmic prodding.

I pulled my legs back, well out of his reach.

I didn't say a single word, nor did I turn around. I just stayed exactly as I was, pretending that nothing had happened.

"Alisson Stout." Logan finally spoke.

Maybe because he had just woken up, he carried that reckless streak of his. "Long time no see."

It had been many years.

Why did he still insist on saying my name like that?

Just like he used to in that cramped, humid apartment, where I drowned in his warmth over and over again, yielding to his gentle yet restless, unbridled movements.

…

After that day, Logan and I didn't speak again.

Not until the next weekend rolled around.

The reality show's live stream operated on a rotation system. This weekend, we were supposed to switch back to the original married couples.

"Mr. Jackson," Bella said, her tone dripping with sweet professionalism, as if she only had the show's best interests at heart.

"Eddie and I have so much hype right now. If you switch us back now, the audience is going to roast you."

The director, Louie Jackson, hesitated. "But—"

"Eddie." Bella turned around. "What do you think?"

Right in front of me, she asked him, "Who are you choosing tonight?"

She had been waiting for this exact moment.

The more scandalous a thing was, the more desperately it craved public validation.

Eddie knew exactly what Bella was playing at.

He cast a deliberate glance my way, then leaned back into his chair. "Is that even a question? No one wants to see her anyway."

Having secured the answer she wanted, Bella turned her gaze back to me.

"Alisson, you don't mind, do you? Then again, you've been a housewife for a long time. You probably don't understand how this works. Audience preference is everything. You should think about the bigger pict—"

"Okay." My response was sharp and immediate.

Eddie looked up at me when he heard that.

They all expected me to throw a fit. That way, they could edit my meltdown into the bonus footage to highlight how sweet and considerate Bella was.

None of them expected me to yield so easily.

Bella had no use for the lines she'd spent all morning rehearsing. Shut down before she could even start, she managed a dry response. "Good. Don't go back on your word."

"Let's just keep it this way permanently," I said.

Her face stiffened slightly.

But she quickly recovered with a smile. Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, she whispered, "Are you trying to make Eddie jealous? Everyone knows you only came on this show to win him back.

"Too bad it's not working. Not only is he not jealous, but you're going to have to watch him walk into my room tonight."

Across the set, the production team called out. The decision was made to stick with last week's pairings.

As they were leaving, Eddie asked Bella with a teasing edge to his voice, "Aren't you worried about her being in a room with Logan?"

Hearing that name triggered a sharp reaction from Bella.

She scoffed as if she'd just heard the most ridiculous joke in the world. "As if Logan has ever liked anyone. Lock them in a room for a year, and he still wouldn't spare her a glance."

They traded a knowing look and shared a laugh.

Right in front of me, Eddie took off his coat and draped it over Bella's shoulders. "Alisson, if you're trying to win me back, these petty mind games aren't going to cut it."

He was trying to provoke me.

He wanted me to snap and lose it in public, giving him the perfect excuse to play the victim.

Eddie and Bella were driven off to a luxury villa.

It was the grand prize for the couple with the highest affection level from the previous week.

Bella posted a photo of their candlelight dinner on Instagram.

The livestream chat was flooded with fans swooning over the romance.

I scrolled through all of this on my phone from the back of the production crew's car.

We were heading toward the old town.

"If these two don't get their affection levels up today, they're going to get eliminated, right?"

"They won't eliminate Logan. He's way too big a star. They'll probably just swap his partner."

"So boring. Why did Logan even agree to do a show like this?"

"The weirder the match, the more I ship it. I have a feeling something's about to happen."

"Are you out of your mind? If anything actually happens between them, I'll eat crap live on stream!"

I put my phone away and asked the staff member next to me, "Where are Logan and I staying tonight?"

"You two had the lowest affection levels, so you have to face the penalty. Tonight, you'll be staying in…"

The car pulled over. He jerked his chin toward the rundown residential building outside the window.

"There," he said. "A rental apartment."

I got out of the car.

The only camera tracking me was a fixed livestream lens mounted inside the vehicle.

From that distance, it could only capture my silhouette from behind. They couldn't hear my voice.

I stood at the entrance, and my mind went blank for a few seconds.

I pulled out my phone and called Gracie Riley, my former boss and my best friend.

"Logan told me, 'Long time no see.'"

Right now, I desperately needed her to snap me out of it.

"And? What else was he supposed to say?"

Gracie was as blunt as I had expected. "Let's be real. Everyone has an ex. He has endless options. Why would he choose a divorcee like you? Just because of those few months you spent depending on each other?

"Think about it objectively. That was the absolute lowest point of his life. Who wants to reminisce about that?"

I turned the key and pushed the door open.

Logan was standing on a ladder, fixing a ceiling light.

As he raised his arms, his lean muscles shifted beneath his shirt.

It was just like the old days.

Except there was a medical bandage wrapped around his waist—a casualty of doing stunt work on set.

The old tungsten bulb flickered in his hand.

Dark, then bright again.

The scene was so painfully familiar that I froze at the door, unable to step inside.

"Let's eat."

Logan noticed me.

His words were brief, and his expression remained unchanged.

It made my anxiety feel entirely out of place. I was the only one overthinking this.

To Logan, this show was probably nothing more than a strategic PR move to smoothly wrap up his marriage.

Outside, the snow was falling.

Logan was tall, with sharp, chiseled features. He was leaning one hand against the counter as he prepped steak.

The domestic vibe was palpable.

I snapped a photo of his back and posted it to Instagram, ticking off the mission from the production team.

Once we finished eating, Logan didn't even let me touch the dishes.

He cleared them up efficiently, washed his hands, and started making the bed for me.

There was only one bed.

He said he'd take the floor.

"Does the injury on your waist need fresh bandages?" I asked.

"I can manage," Logan replied.

By the time I showered and stepped out of the bathroom, a thin makeshift bed was already laid out on the floor.

Logan was rummaging through his suitcase, pulling out a fresh roll of long bandage.

I instinctively averted my eyes and pulled out my phone.

A voice note from Eddie popped up.

My hands were still damp from the shower, and my finger slipped, hitting play on speakerphone.

Eddie had seen my Instagram post.

"Since when do you eat steak? By the way, I happened to be passing by that bakery you mentioned, so I picked up that cake you wanted."

That was the cake I had asked for on my birthday last year, but he hadn't bought it for me then.

I had waited so long, and now that he finally bought it, it was solely to maintain his doting-husband persona for the cameras.

I stared down at my screen.

Then, a shadow fell over me as Logan blocked out the overhead light.

"Can you help me?" He was holding the roll of bandage.

Didn't he just say he could manage?

To dress the wound and wrap the bandage, my arms weren't quite long enough. I had to loosely circle my hands around his torso.

In this northern rental apartment, the heating was weak. The bitter chill of snow mixed with rain seeped through the cracks of the old house.

It was freezing. Yet, Logan and I meticulously maintained our distance.

My fingertips touched nothing but the fabric of the bandage. He kept his face turned away, staring blankly at the wall.

It was nothing like that year in our rental apartment down south. That place had been stiflingly hot, completely cut off from the world.

It was hot, but we had clung to each other over and over again, consuming one another as if there were no tomorrow.

The tungsten bulb flared to life. Logan and I were standing directly beneath it.

During our poorest, most hopeless year, we couldn't even afford to replace a lightbulb. We used whatever still worked.

That old tungsten bulb had been repaired countless times, always flickering and buzzing in the dead of night.

Back then, an 18-year-old Logan had told me, "Every time it hums, it means I'm thinking of you."

That night, the tungsten light hummed incessantly.

I looked up at Logan. "Did you not fix it properly just now?"

He froze for a fraction of a second, then looked down, holding my gaze. "No. I did it on purpose."

"Why?" I asked.

"If I fixed it, you wouldn't hear it humming."

I froze for a second.

He took the remaining bandage from my hands and deftly tied it off himself.

"Alisson," he called my name. "Do you prefer steak or cake?"

A person should always be honest when it came to food.

"Steak."

The livestream chat exploded.

"Alright, time for me to go eat crap."

"This awkward, deliberate boundary-pushing vibe… Something is definitely up."

"Oh, Logan just turned off the lights."

"Is there something my premium VIP membership isn't allowed to see?"

In reality, nothing happened.

Logan wrapped himself in a thin blanket and slept on the floor while I lay in bed, staring at the ceiling, unable to drift off.

The bed was just too loud. Every time I tossed or turned, it groaned and creaked.

I used to complain to him about it back in the day. But those complaints were always followed by an exasperated plea. "Logan, don't be so… Hold back a little."

We used to go all night when we were young.

Now, with every shift of my weight, the frame let out a loud creak.

I wasn't the only one remembering that.

Logan threw off his blanket, dressed only in a thin gray T-shirt, and walked out into the hallway. He then pulled the door shut behind him with a crack.