Ace and I planned the breakup months ago.
He didn't want to—but his manager insisted. It was for his career. His next project is a huge romance movie, and I'm actually excited for it! So I teamed up with his manager to convince him.
Ace already boosted my career so much. A lot of his fans surprisingly started supporting me too. Of course, there'll be negative comments, but I wanted to let him go for his own good.
If it all came down to Ace's kindness, we'd never move on. And honestly? That felt like a cage for him. What if someone actually liked him for real?
I didn't want to be the burden that kept him from that. No way!
I even used to ship him with one of his old loveteam partners. Sometimes he'd groan, "I'm supposed to be your boyfriend—why are you shipping me with another girl?" like I just betrayed him.
They just looked so good together… or maybe it was the movie.
Sorry, Ace. You're so good at acting I keep mixing it up with reality.
So… the breakup Ice mentioned? I better not tell him. Or I'll get another long-winded lecture about life, responsibility, and probably sleep cycles.
Sometimes Ice is more strict than my dad. I didn't know this is what having a bossy older brother feels like.
The room was lit now, but we were still sitting on the floor.
I had asked him—maybe a minute ago—to repeat what he said. But he hadn't moved or spoken since.
His eyes were glued to the floor. Was he that mad?
Wait—he's running away!?
Ice suddenly stood up and bolted toward the door!
Outrunning him? Impossible. The traitor bolted without warning! But that's okay—I had a better, more dramatic idea.
"Let go, you!"
He was inches from grabbing the doorknob when I clung to his feet with all my might. Gravity, don't fail me now!
I had considered pulling on his arm, but he might've shaken me off. So I wrapped myself around his legs like a human ankle weight.
After all, Ice isn't exactly a gym rat.
This might be the first time in my life I wanted to be heavier.
"Let go!" he snapped.
"No!" I shook my head like a stubborn five-year-old. "Come on! Don't leave me alone!"
"You came here to check on me. Can you at least stay?" I tugged his leg dramatically.
He struggled for a full minute to shake me off. Finally, he gave up with a loud sigh.
I peeked up. His expression? Deeply displeased. Perfect!
I pouted. "Please?" I added my teary puppy eyes for extra damage.
He groaned. "Let go now."
"You're not running away anymore?"
"Yes, yes." Not convincing at all. But Ice never is.
Somehow… with Ice and all this ridiculousness, I felt a little better. Maybe not just a little. But whenever I remembered my exam grade, it still punched me in the chest.
Honestly, I was still undeniably sad.
The kind that sticks in your bones even when you're laughing.
The kind that turns your whole body heavy.
I didn't want to show it—especially to Ice.
But every time I thought about the test, it felt like something was cracking inside me again.
I let go of his foot and curled into a ball again.
"What now?" Ice crouched down beside me. "Why are you crying again?"
"My exam," I sniffled.
I probably looked like a sobbing fish. With matching eyebags.
Just when I forgot how sad I was, reality poked me again—"Time to cry about your life choices, missy!"
"Are you hungry?"
INT. CONVENIENCE STORE – NIGHT
"Ori, I told you—we can't live on convenience store food forever."
Dhylan spoke lightly, scanning the rows of colorful drink bottles behind the glass fridge. His words were casual, but his eyes kept flicking to the girl behind him.
Oriel stood quietly with her phone pressed to her ear, brows scrunched, her lips set in a worried line. She hadn't even heard him. Again.
Dhylan chuckled under his breath and tried again.
"We should just get an apartment nearby," he said, glancing at her with a soft grin. "Cook real food. Also, live together—like newlyweds!"
He turned to her fully this time, flashing a full, boyish smile.
But it was useless.
Her mind wasn't here with him—it was with Fire. He looked at her face—anxious, distracted, eyes darting as if searching for answers through the phone.
"You're so lucky, Fyre," Dhylan muttered to himself, a trace of longing slipping into his voice. "I wish I could be you."
"What?" Oriel pulled the phone slightly away, frowning at him.
"I said—did she answer?" he replied smoothly.
"No, not yet." She let out a breath. "Just get me a sandwich, will you? I'll wait outside."
"Got it!"
With a flash of her smile, he was already halfway convinced. He smiled back, eager.
"Do you want your usual, or—"
But before he could finish, she was already pushing through the automatic doors.
His grin slowly faded into something smaller—more bittersweet.
He turned back toward the shelves and quietly began gathering food. Not just any food—her favorites. Her go-to sandwich. Her favorite chips. The sweet drink she always refused to buy for herself.
It was silly, maybe. She wouldn't even notice. But doing something, even something small, made him feel like he mattered.
She rarely let him treat her to anything—but when she was distracted like this, she forgot to argue.
He looked down at the bag in his hands.
Moments like these felt like stolen chances.
As he paid at the counter, he smiled to himself—sweet and sour. A memory to keep.