"This person is Seth Harding!"

"Thank you for coming into my life. Every time I felt lost and hopeless, you gave me the courage to keep going."

The spotlight swung onto Seth.

He clapped a hand over his mouth in exaggerated surprise.

Violet's smile was tender, her voice even more so.

"Welcome back."

The auditorium erupted. A deafening chant of "Get together! Get together!" rolled through the crowd like a wave threatening to capsize the hall.

Online, fans lost their minds, flooding comment sections with "They're perfect for each other" and "When's the wedding?"

I glanced at the comments, then down at the ring box in my hand, the one I'd spent a year choosing. The bridge of my nose stung.

Five years. For five years, I'd turned down invitation after invitation from Chris, one of the top directors in Hollywood, locking myself inside an eighty-square-foot study to tailor every word, every line, every role to fit her like a second skin.

I'd once gone three days without sleep just to rework the emotional arc of a single crying scene so it would hit harder.

Everyone in the industry said Violet Henson was born lucky, that she'd landed scripts perfectly suited to her image from the very start of her career. What they didn't know was that every soul-stirring performance that made audiences fall to their knees had been carved out of my own flesh and blood, piece by painstaking piece.

And now, at the crowning moment of her ascent, she'd wiped my name clean off the monument.

Why?

She was the one who'd reached for my hand first, who told me to forget the past and start a new life together.

She was the one who'd promised to propose to me tonight, to make me the happiest man alive.

I couldn't make sense of it.

When Violet and her manager Savannah slipped away to the greenroom during the intermission, I dodged everyone and followed.

My hand had just touched the door handle.

But the voices inside reached me first.

"Violet, have you lost your mind?"

Savannah's voice was tight with barely contained fury.

"Three months ago, you said the moment you won the Golden Dragon Award, you'd marry Tristram. It took us a full month to convince the agency. We had the entire PR rollout mapped out for you."

"The proposal sequence, the ring, everything was ready to go."

"But up on that stage just now, you didn't mention Tristram once. Instead you brought up Seth. How do you think that makes him feel?"

A brief silence filled the room.

Violet took a drag of her cigarette, her expression half-hidden in shadow, distant and unreadable.

"Seth just went through a divorce. He's having a rough time."

"He overthinks things. If his comeback doesn't go well, he'll spiral."

"He came to me for help. All I did was throw him a bone, a little buzz to ride. That's it."

Savannah stamped her foot in frustration.

"And what about Tristram? Do you have any idea how much that man has sacrificed for you over the years?"

"His latest script, Chasing the Wind, he spent a whole year on it. Every ounce of his heart went into that, and all of it was for you!"

"If you push him away, if he actually leaves, what are you going to do then?"

Silence swallowed the room.

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

Waiting for one reason. Just one reason to stay.

"He won't mind."

Violet's voice carried a certainty that chilled me to the bone.

"He loves me. Even if I never marry him, he'll stay by my side."

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

"Besides, he's not like Seth. He's got a big heart. He'll understand."

As she spoke, she tore the proposal plan from Savannah's hands and ripped it to shreds.

Then tossed the pieces into the trash like garbage.

"The proposal can wait. Bringing it up now would steal Seth's thunder."

Those scraps of paper gleamed under the light, bright enough to sting.

I stood in the dim corridor.

For the first time, the five years I'd spent with her felt like a joke.

But she was right about one thing. I did have a strong heart.

Strong enough for this moment.

I didn't push the door open. Didn't storm in screaming for answers.

Even though my eyes stung and my nose burned, I refused to let a single tear fall.

I just stood there, quiet, and took out my phone.

Block.

Delete.

Clear all.

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

Just like my five years with Violet.

Fading from memory, bit by bit.

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

I was at the door when Chris's overseas call came through again.

"Pruitt, have you thought about my offer? The screenwriter seat on Riptide has your name on it. But you'd need to leave tonight. We've got 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 an excited shriek.

"Fantastic, Pruitt! You're finally willing to leave that insufferable Best Actress girlfriend of yours. I'll arrange everything you need."

"Including London's finest eligible women."

That got a laugh out of me.

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

Violet's voice came from behind me.

"What's this about London?"

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

Violet's attention shifted instantly. She reached up and smoothed my short hair.

"What's the matter? Still upset I didn't propose at the Golden Dragon Awards?"

"There were reasons for that."

She pulled me into the dim hallway, resting her head against my shoulder, trying to explain.

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

Before she could finish, a shrill ringtone cut through.

The name on her screen: Seth Harding.

After she picked up, her tone changed immediately, tense and urgent.

"Okay. Stay where you are. I'm on my way."

She hung up and pressed a hurried kiss to my cheek.

"Tristram, some idiots are harassing Seth. I'll be right back. Wait for me at home and I'll explain everything."

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

But she didn't.

I watched her figure shrink into the distance and pressed a hand against my chest, where my heart clenched in sharp, stuttering beats.

Home?

Since when did we have a home?

I took out my phone and booked a moving company.

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

I was about to lock the screen when a flood of trending headlines about Violet and Seth popped up.

[BREAKING: Possible romance exposed! Best Actress spotted escorting Seth Harding from venue late at night]

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

My thumb froze.

I tapped in.

The video was dimly lit.

Violet was shielding Seth, hurrying him through the crowd. He was pressed against her, fingers clutching the front of her dress. And she was leaning down, her lips about to brush his forehead.

Like a lady knight protecting her prince.

The comments had already exploded.

"This must be the person she thanked onstage, right? They look gorgeous together."

"They haven't even made it official and I'm already obsessed with this ship."

"Where's Tristram Pruitt? Wasn't there a rumor he's the actual boyfriend?"

"Boyfriend? Please. The guy's a nobody. If our girl hadn't starred in his scripts, he'd still be wandering around in obscurity. As if he's anywhere near her league."

Agreed. A screenwriter can't compare to Seth's looks. A talented woman deserves a handsome man.

I snorted and liked every single one of their comments.

Back at the house, I was directing the movers when Savannah called.

"Mr. Pruitt, I just saw the trending posts. Let me explain before you get the wrong idea. Violet and Seth are just friends!"

I didn't respond to that. I only asked where Violet was.

She faltered, unsure how to answer.

I laughed.

"She's at Seth's bedside, isn't she?"

A minute earlier, I'd already seen the video. Violet sitting at Seth's bedside, spooning porridge into his mouth.

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

Violet always said she was busy. Said she liked strong, self-reliant men.

So I learned to sit through IV drips alone. Learned to take care of myself when I was burning up. Tried my best not to be a burden to her.

But then Seth came back.

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

Savannah's discomfort was almost palpable. She scrambled for an explanation.

"Yes, she's with Mr. Harding."

"But there's nothing intimate going on between them, and there are other people in the room—"

"You don't need to explain. None of it matters to me anymore."

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

"Tell Violet I'm breaking up with her."

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

When the last box was carried out, I stood in the doorway and took one final look.

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

The one I'd planned to give her tonight.

I looked at it for two seconds.

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

At the airport, a friend request from an unknown number popped up on my phone.

The moment I accepted, a photo came through.

A man's ring finger, wearing a diamond ring that glinted under the light, almost offensively bright.

The diamond ring Violet gave me. Nice, isn't it?

I stared at it for two seconds and laughed.

Seth Harding.

The man really knew how to make someone's skin crawl.

I didn't bother replying. Just blocked him.

But there was no way I was swallowing this.

I immediately sent Savannah an email.

A full revocation of Violet Henson's filming rights to Headwind.

Along with a unilateral termination, in my capacity as sole copyright holder, of all collaborations with Violet Henson's studio.

One second later, my phone exploded.

"Tristram! Have you lost your mind?"

Savannah was practically screaming.

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

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

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

My voice was flat.

"Destroy her?"

"Savannah, you've got it backwards."

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

She went quiet for a beat, then softened her tone.

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

"I already explained it to you. There's nothing going on between her and Seth. I can guarantee it. You're the only one Violet cares about."

"Three months ago, she told us she was going to marry—"

"Enough."

I rubbed my temples, exhausted.

"Her reasons don't matter."

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