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.
In the deep neon glow of the night, a cigarette burned in Logan's hand.
Not far off, headlights cut through the darkness.
Logan locked eyes with Eddie, who had just stepped out of a car.
"I'm delivering cake," Eddie explained as he peered through the window into the room.
Taking in the sight of the separate blankets on the bed and the floor, he let out a knowing smirk.
"Can't help it," he said. "She's just too clingy."
Even though they weren't close and Logan wasn't reciprocating the conversation, Eddie was desperate to assert his dominance.
"She's craved this cake forever and insisted I buy it. She won't accept it from anyone else. When she wakes up tomorrow and sees this, she's going to be absolutely thrilled."
Eddie looked at Logan. "You wouldn't get it. I'm her first love."
"Are you?" Logan finally said something.
"Why would I lie?" Eddie retorted. "She only joined this reality show to win me back."
That cake, however, was nowhere to be seen when I woke up the next morning.
The live stream wrapped up, and for the first time, all four of us were gathered together for the bonus footage interview.
I arrived late, being the last one to walk in.
A staff member handed me a headset.
My hair, freshly washed and too silky, made it impossible to secure.
Across the room, Bella and Eddie were drawing Q&A cards.
As I kept my head down, the headset nearly fell. But before it could, a hand from my left swiftly caught it.
"Thanks."
I reached out to take it from Logan, but he didn't let go. Instead, he brought my hand to his lips for a brief kiss before putting the headset on me. He even adjusted it with practiced ease.
The entire room instantly fell into a dead silence.
Eddie shot up from his chair.
Logan withdrew his hand, his tone suddenly polite and restrained as he addressed me. "Sorry, my hand slipped."
Louie, reading the room, quickly broke the tension. "Let's move on to the questions."
Eddie slowly sat back down, and the Q&A game began.
When it was my turn to draw a card, I pulled the "First Love" card.
Louie asked me, "Is your first love the absolute favorite of your life?"
Eddie rested his chin on his hand, dropping his casual demeanor to stare intently at me.
The rest of the crew glanced back and forth between Eddie and me. Everyone thought he was my first love.
"Yes."
Hearing my answer, Eddie sat up straight, unable to resist shooting Logan a triumphant side-eye.
But Logan seemed completely checked out. He kept his face turned toward the window, watching the falling snow outside.
The glass reflected my face perfectly.
"Same question," Louie announced. "Logan, your turn."
Since we were paired up, we had to answer the question on the same card.
Bella wasn't his first love.
No one in the room knew who that person was.
"I hate her. She's really infuriating." Logan's voice was incredibly soft. It carried a rare, underlying hint of vulnerability.
The crew immediately perked up, leaning in to catch the gossip.
"Sounds like a lot of resentment." Louie prodded, "What did she do?"
"Well…" Logan turned around, drawing out his words. "She married someone else but claims that I'm actually her favorite."
The statement didn't make sense. No one in the room could understand it.
Yet, Eddie's brows furrowed instinctively.
Louie flipped the final card. "Alisson, what would you say to your first love right now?"
A hundred safe, generic answers flashed through my mind.
But what slipped out of my mouth was, "I hope… he doesn't hate me too much."
It fit the narrative perfectly. Everyone present assumed I was begging for Eddie's forgiveness.
Eddie's smug arrogance returned instantly. He arched an eyebrow, clearly intending to string me along without giving me an easy way out.
When the exact same question was put to Logan, he replied, "I lied just now. I don't hate her at all."
Eddie finally began to realize that something was off.
