Chapter 36

Olivia's POV

The bathroom mirror reflected a face I barely recognized. My cheeks were flushed, my eyes red and swollen from crying, and no amount of retouching could hide the dark circles beneath them.

"Get it together, Olivia," I whispered, gripping the sink as if it could steady me. "You're Olivia Carter. You've handled worse than this."

But the words felt hollow.

The tears threatened to spill over again, and I bit my lip, trying to push back the flood. It wasn't just the exhaustion from Elijah's recovery or the suffocating hospital air—it was the emptiness that Zoya's absence left behind.

She hadn't called. She hadn't come back.

She gave up, the thought whispered cruelly.

I'd pushed her away so many times—out of fear, out of duty—and now she was gone. Maybe she'd finally decided I wasn't worth the trouble. And maybe she was right.

A shuddering breath escaped me, and I wiped at my eyes again, furious at my own weakness. "You've got this," I told myself. "You always do."

Forcing my tears back, I reached into my bag for my makeup kit and touched up my face, smoothing away the streaks of mascara and the rawness around my nose. By the time I stepped out of the bathroom, my mask was back in place—flawless, polished, untouchable.

Elijah's room was full when I returned. The familiar voices of the cast and crew greeted me as I stepped inside, their laughter and chatter momentarily lifting the oppressive weight in the air.

"Olivia!" Anthony's warm smile was the first thing I noticed as he crossed the room to greet me. He wrapped me in a quick hug, his cologne almost overpowering. "We wanted to check in on you—and Elijah, of course."

"Thank you," I said, my voice steady but distant. My eyes instinctively scanned the room, searching for her.

But Zoya wasn't there.

"She couldn't make it," Anthony said, as if reading my mind. His tone was neutral, but I thought I caught a flicker of something else—disapproval? Satisfaction?

I swallowed the lump in my throat and forced a smile. "It's nice of all of you to come."

The conversation turned to work—updates on the show, plans for the next shooting schedule. I nodded along, making all the right noises, even as my mind wandered. When they asked when I'd return, I answered automatically. "As soon as Elijah gets well enough. I'll be back."

Anthony gave an approving nod. "The set's not the same without you."

As I walked them out, Anthony lingered behind, falling into step beside me. When we reached the hospital lobby, he placed a hand gently on my arm.

"Olivia, can we talk for a moment? In private?"

I hesitated, glancing at the others as they headed for the exit. But Anthony's expression was kind, concerned. I nodded.

He led me to a quieter corner of the lobby, his tone lowering. "I just want you to know, I'm here for you. If you need anything—anything at all—you can come to me."

"Thank you, Anthony," I said softly, though the words felt distant, rehearsed.

"I mean it," he pressed, his eyes searching mine. "You've been through so much, and I know how isolating it can feel. You don't have to do this alone."

I nodded, looking away.

He sighed, running a hand through his hair. "I was so frustrated when I saw how the rumors affected you. I even suggested hiring a private investigator to get to the bottom of it."

I blinked, surprised. "You did?"

"Yes," he said, his tone laced with disappointment. "But Ezra shut it down. He said it would bring unwanted attention to the show, that it wasn't worth the risk."

A flicker of doubt stirred in my chest. "Ezra said that?"

Anthony nodded. "I wanted to fight him on it, but... you know how he can be. He's more focused on the show's image than the people working on it."

I bit my lip, the unease in my chest growing. Anthony's words made sense, but something about them didn't sit right.

"I just wanted you to know," he said, stepping closer. "If you ever need someone to fight for you, Olivia, I'm here."

I forced a smile, the weight of his words settling heavily on me. "Thanks, Anthony. That means a lot."

He smiled back, warm and reassuring. "Anytime."

As he walked away, I stayed rooted to the spot, the doubts swirling in my mind. Ezra's refusal to investigate, Zoya's absence, Anthony's sudden support—it all felt tangled, like pieces of a puzzle I couldn't quite fit together.

And for the first time, I wondered if I truly knew who I could trust.

Zoya's POV

The university hallways felt endless as I hurried down them, my backpack slung over one shoulder, and my phone clutched tightly in my hand. My last lecture had run over, and I was now officially late. Again.

I pushed through the exit doors, the crisp air hitting my face as I stepped outside. My thoughts were already ahead of me, running through the chaos of the day. I knew it was Olivia's first day back on set since Elijah had been discharged.

Elijah is home. She must be relieved, I thought. But deep down, I couldn't shake the weight in my chest, the one that whispered I'd missed my chance.

I caught the next bus, weaving through the city traffic, my heart pounding—not just from the rush, but from the uncertainty of what would happen when I saw her again.

By the time I arrived at the set, I was breathless and disheveled. The familiar hum of activity greeted me as I walked inside, crew members bustling around and voices calling instructions across the room.

And then I saw her.

Olivia stood near the edge of the set, her posture perfect, as always. She was speaking with one of the makeup artists, but her gaze drifted past them—until it landed on me.

Our eyes locked, and for a moment, the noise of the set disappeared. It was just us, staring at each other, like the rest of the world didn't exist.

I felt it then, that pull I'd been trying to ignore. My soul ached for her, and from the way her lips parted ever so slightly, I knew she felt it too.

I took a breath and started walking toward her, willing my legs to move despite the heaviness in my chest.

"Olivia," I said softly when I reached her.

She turned fully to face me, her expression neutral but her eyes giving her away. There was pain there, and something else—something raw and unspoken.

"Zoya," she said, her voice smooth but quieter than usual.

I hesitated for a moment, then asked, "How are you doing?"

Her lips curved into a small, practiced smile. "Fine. Elijah's recovering, and I'm back at work, so... everything's fine."

But her voice cracked slightly on the last word, and I caught the flicker of vulnerability she was trying so hard to hide.

I nodded, my heart tightening. "Good. I'm glad to hear that."

She looked away briefly, as if gathering herself, then added, "How about you? Still juggling university and this crazy schedule?"

"Barely," I said with a weak laugh, hoping to ease the tension. "But it keeps me busy."

She nodded, her eyes drifting back to mine, and for a moment, we just stood there, the silence between us heavy with everything we weren't saying.

Finally, I broke the silence. "Olivia... we need to be careful."

Her brows furrowed slightly. "What do you mean?"

"I mean we can't trust anyone," I said, my voice low. My eyes flicked briefly toward Ezra, who was standing near the monitors, deep in conversation with a crew member. "No matter who they are."

Her gaze followed mine, and when she looked back at me, there was a flicker of understanding in her eyes.

"I feel the same," she admitted, her voice almost a whisper. "I don't even know who to trust anymore."

I nodded, my chest tightening at the sadness in her voice. I wanted to say more, to offer her some kind of reassurance, but before I could, one of the PAs called for us to get into position for the next scene.

Cast in scene : Olivia Lopez as Amelia Nilson

Zoya Eldeeb as Aurora

We stood opposite each other in the lavish living room set, our lines rehearsed but feeling far too close to reality.

"You think you know what's best for my son?" Olivia's voice, sharp and commanding, filled the space as Amelia.

"I think someone has to," I replied as Aurora, my voice trembling. "Because you're too busy drowning in your grief to see what he needs."

Her eyes flared with anger, and for a moment, I forgot we were acting. "You have no right to speak to me that way."

"And you have no right to keep ignoring him," I shot back, stepping closer. "He needs you, Amelia. Not your money, not your house—you."

The room was silent except for our voices, the tension palpable. Olivia's gaze burned into mine, and I felt my own emotions threatening to bleed through the script.

Finally, she turned away, her shoulders slumping as Amelia's mask cracked. "I'm trying," she whispered. "I'm trying, but it's never enough."

The director called, "Cut!" but for a moment, neither of us moved. We stood there, staring at each other, our breathing uneven.

"Great work, both of you," Ezra called from behind the monitors, clapping his hands.

I nodded, stepping back as the crew moved in to reset the scene. But as I turned away, I caught Olivia's gaze one last time, and the ache in my chest deepened.

The quiet of my dressing room felt heavier than usual as I tossed my bag onto the chair and kicked off my shoes. The day had been exhausting, and all I wanted was a hot shower and maybe a chance to sleep without my thoughts spiraling.

I reached behind me, pulling the zipper of my dress down as my phone buzzed on the nightstand. Sighing, I grabbed it and glanced at the screen. Anna.

I hesitated before answering. "Hey."

"Zoya," her voice was light but carried a hint of something else. "What are you doing tonight?"

I frowned, sliding the dress off my shoulders and stepping out of it. "Recovering from work," I said dryly, sitting on the edge of my bed. "Why?"

"Come over," she said, her tone almost teasing. "We could hang out. Have a drink or two."

I ran a hand through my hair, closing my eyes briefly. "Anna, that wasn't the deal."

She was silent for a moment before responding, her tone shifting. "What do you mean?"

"You know what I mean," I said firmly, standing and reaching for my robe. "This thing between us—it's just for show. To keep the rumors down. That's all."

"I know," she said quickly, though her voice held a faint edge. "I just thought maybe—"

"No," I interrupted, my tone softening slightly. "We can't complicate this, Anna. You know why we made the agreement. Let's not forget that, okay?"

Another pause, then she sighed. "Fine. I get it. Just... don't be a stranger, alright?"

"Goodnight, Anna," I said, ending the call before she could say more.

I tossed the phone onto the bed, exhaling sharply. I didn't want to hurt her feelings, but I couldn't let this get messy. My life was already messy enough.

I was tying the belt of my robe when a flicker of movement outside the window caught my eye. My heart skipped, and I froze, staring at the darkened glass.

Did I imagine that?

The curtains swayed slightly, though I knew I hadn't left the window open. My pulse quickened as I took a hesitant step closer.

"Hello?" I called softly, my voice barely above a whisper.

Silence.

I grabbed the nearest thing within reach—a heavy candleholder—and yanked the window open. The cool night air hit my face, but there was no one there.

I leaned out, scanning the street below. It was empty, eerily so, except for the faint sound of a car in the distance.

Then I noticed the bushes near the window—flattened slightly, like someone had stepped through them in a hurry.

"Damn it," I muttered, slamming the window shut and locking it.

My hands were shaking as I stepped back, every nerve in my body on edge. Whoever it was, they were gone now, but the feeling of being watched lingered like a shadow in the room.

I cursed under my breath, clutching the candleholder tightly as I checked the other windows and locked the door.

It wasn't just exhaustion making me paranoid. Someone had been there. And the thought of who it could be made my blood run cold.