The war scene was meant to look chaotic, but Ellie's mind was a storm of its own. The cameras rolled, extras screamed, gunfire effects echoed. She ran, dropped to the ground, and cried on cue. Yet her eyes flicked toward the sidelines, where Kyla stood with folded arms, quietly watching.
Ellie exhaled when the director yelled "Cut!" Her chest heaved, sweat sticking strands of hair to her face. She turned toward her dressing room, eager to escape the pressure. She didn't notice Kyla following.
Inside the restroom, Ellie splashed cold water on her face. She shut her eyes, whispered, "Focus, Ellie. Focus. This is work."
The door closed behind her with a click. She looked up at the mirror. Kyla's reflection stared back.
Ellie froze. "Kyla… you scared me. You're not supposed to be in here."
Kyla stepped closer, her voice low but steady. "You've been avoiding me."
Ellie reached for a towel, trying to keep her hands busy. "I'm working. That's all."
"You weren't this nervous before." Kyla's hand brushed the edge of the sink. "But now you can't even look me in the eye."
Ellie's throat tightened. "Kyla, don't start this here."
But Kyla stepped forward, cornering her between the sink and the wall. Her gaze softened, but her tone carried a weight Ellie knew too well. "Tell me you don't feel it anymore. Look at me and say it."
Ellie shook her head. "This isn't the time—"
Kyla silenced her with a kiss. Quick, desperate, almost trembling. Ellie's eyes widened, then shut. The kiss was heat and memory, all the things she tried to bury while cameras rolled and scripts demanded her focus.
When Kyla pulled back, Ellie's lips parted, breath shallow. "Kyla…"
"You still care," Kyla whispered. "No acting. No lies. Just us."
Ellie pressed a hand against her chest, as if steadying her heart. "I… I don't know what to say."
"Don't say anything," Kyla murmured, brushing a thumb against Ellie's cheek. "Not yet."
The door rattled. A voice called, "Ellie, they need you back on set!"
Ellie jolted, pushing past Kyla. She rushed out, but her legs felt weak. Her mind was worse.
On set, Ellie struggled to keep her composure. She was supposed to scream over a fallen comrade, tears streaming. The director's voice barked through the megaphone.
"Ellie, more intensity! I want grief. I want heartbreak!"
She nodded, tried again, but the moment she opened her mouth, her voice cracked for reasons no script dictated. She heard Kyla's kiss echo in her head.
"Cut! Ellie, what's going on?" the director snapped.
Ellie bit her lip. "Sorry. I'll do better."
But when the camera rolled again, she saw Kyla standing near the props table, watching silently. Ellie's cheeks flushed. She stumbled over her line, dropped the wrong prop. The extras exchanged confused looks.
The director groaned. "Ten-minute break!"
Ellie hurried off set, muttering apologies. She leaned against the wall outside, burying her face in her hands. "Get it together, Ellie. You're making a fool of yourself."
But the taste of Kyla's kiss lingered like a secret.
Meanwhile, in the medical tent built for the war sequence, Claude stirred. He had been confined to bed for days, recovering from his injuries. The steady beep of machines and faint smell of antiseptic filled the air.
A nurse adjusted his IV, but Claude's gaze drifted toward the window. "How long have I been asleep?" His voice was hoarse.
"Almost a month," the nurse said gently. "You're lucky to be alive."
Claude flexed his fingers, slow but steady. His chest tightened with memory, Astrid crying over him on set, her trembling hands. A faint smile tugged at his lips. "I'll be back soon. I have to be."
Outside the studio gates, Anastasia stepped out of a black car. She wore sunglasses, but her sharp eyes scanned the lot. She had barely taken three steps before a voice called out.
"Well, well. Anastasia."
She turned. Zake leaned casually against a motorcycle, grin tugging his lips. "Didn't expect to see me again, huh?"
Anastasia smirked, adjusting her sunglasses. "Zake. You still alive."
"Alive and better than ever." He pushed off the bike, walking closer. "You look good. But then again, you always did."
She rolled her eyes. "Flattery won't work."
"Not flattery. Truth." Zake tilted his head, scanning her face. "Tell me you haven't missed me."
Anastasia scoffed but didn't answer. Her silence was answer enough.
Before he could tease her more, footsteps echoed.
"Irene?" Anastasia blinked.
Beside Irene was Veilah, both dressed elegantly. Dominique and Charlie walked with them, engaged in quiet conversation.
Zake raised a brow. "Well, this is awkward."
Irene froze, eyes darting between Anastasia and Zake. "What's he doing here?"
Veilah's lips tightened. "Trouble follows him like a shadow."
Dominique glanced at Charlie, muttering, "This is going to get messy."
Charlie folded his arms. "Then let's watch."
Anastasia crossed her arms. "Relax. We're not here to fight." She glanced at Zake. "Are we?"
Zake smirked, hands raised in mock surrender. "Not today. I'm more interested in catching up."
Irene frowned, stepping forward. "Zake, whatever you're planning, leave Anastasia out of it."
"Oh?" Zake's grin widened. "You still protecting her? Cute."
Tension thickened like smoke. Veilah shifted closer to Irene, her hand brushing Irene's in a quiet show of solidarity. Dominique and Charlie stood ready, eyes watchful.
Anastasia inhaled sharply. "This isn't the place."
Zake leaned closer to her ear, voice dropping. "Then let's find one."
Anastasia stiffened, but she didn't pull away.
Irene's jaw clenched. "Don't."
Back on set, Ellie struggled through another take. The director's patience was wearing thin. Kyla kept her distance this time, but her eyes never left Ellie.
When the director shouted "That's a wrap for today!", Ellie collapsed onto a chair. Kyla walked over slowly, pulling a bottle of water from the cooler. She set it on the table.
"You looked… distracted," Kyla said softly.
Ellie lifted her head, sweat glistening on her brow. "You think?"
Kyla sat across from her, expression unreadable. "Because of me?"
Ellie didn't answer. Her silence was enough.
Kyla leaned forward, voice a whisper. "Then stop pretending. You don't have to."
Ellie's fingers tightened around the bottle. "Kyla, you don't understand. If I let this happen again, I'll lose control. And I can't afford that. Not here. Not now."
Kyla's eyes softened, almost pleading. "Then lose control. At least with me."
Ellie looked away, heart pounding, torn between duty and desire.
The night fell over the studio. The war on screen paused, but the wars in their hearts only grew.
Claude fought to rise from his bed, determined to reclaim what he lost.
Zake chased Anastasia with charm and trouble, while Irene and Veilah guarded their own fragile bond with Dominique and Charlie watching.
And Ellie, trapped between the weight of her career and Kyla's kiss, wondered how long she could keep acting when her heart refused to follow the script.
Across the lot, Anastasia spotted Zake leaning against his motorcycle. Her steps faltered, but she forced herself to keep walking.
Zake smirked. "Well, if it isn't the ice queen herself."
Anastasia crossed her arms. "If you're here to waste my time, I'll leave."
"Always so dramatic," Zake said, pushing off the bike. "Relax. I only wanted to see you."
"You saw me. Goodbye."
He stepped in front of her, blocking her path. "Still running away. Some things never change."
Anastasia's eyes narrowed. "And some things get worse. Like you."
Zake grinned. "If I got worse, why are you still looking at me like that?"
"I'm not." Her voice was sharp, but her cheeks betrayed her with a faint flush.
Before she could shove him aside, Irene and Veilah appeared with Dominique and Charlie trailing.
Irene's eyes sharpened. "What's going on here?"
"Nothing," Anastasia snapped. "He was leaving."
Zake raised a brow. "Funny, I thought you were the one leaving."
"Because I don't want to be near you."
"Then why are you still here?" Zake shot back, his tone laced with challenge.
Their eyes locked, heat sparking in the space between them.
Veilah whispered to Irene, "They're at it again."
Irene's jaw clenched. "I don't like it. He's trying to pull her back."
Dominique leaned toward Charlie. "They fight like enemies but stand like lovers."
Charlie nodded grimly. "Which makes them twice as dangerous."
Anastasia finally shoved Zake's shoulder. "Move."
He stepped aside, smirking. "Anything for you, princess."
Her glare could have cut steel, yet her steps faltered as she passed him. Zake's eyes followed her, softer than his words.
Irene noticed and bristled. "Stay away from her, Zake."
He smirked again, masking the slip. "Can't promise that."
Anastasia spun back, anger flashing. "You're impossible."
"And you love it," he shot back without missing a beat.
The group fell silent. The words hung heavy, almost too revealing.
Anastasia's face flushed, but she quickly turned away. "You're delusional."
Zake chuckled under his breath. "Am I?"
Dominique exhaled. "This won't end well."
Charlie muttered, "Or it won't end at all.
The studio's main hall buzzed with life. Extras rehearsed formations, props clattered, and the director's voice boomed across the set. The war film was hitting its peak sequences, and tension ran high both on camera and off.
Ellie struggled to stay focused, still reeling from Kyla's kiss, but tonight the storm swirled elsewhere.
Across the floor, Anastasia adjusted her costume, tightening the strap of her gear. She barely noticed Zake leaning against a crate, arms folded, watching her with a grin that had been irritating her for years.
"Don't you have somewhere better to be?" she muttered, not even glancing his way.
"Nowhere better than here," Zake replied easily. "I get the best view of the set."
Anastasia's head snapped toward him. "You mean of me."
"Didn't say that," he teased, though the smirk said everything.
Irene, Veilah, Dominique, and Charlie entered just in time to catch the exchange. Irene's eyes narrowed immediately. "Again? Do you two ever stop?"
Anastasia huffed, brushing past Zake. "Don't encourage him."
"I'm not saying anything," Zake said, feigning innocence. "She starts it every time."
"You breathe near me and it's already starting," Anastasia shot back.
Dominique leaned close to Charlie, whispering, "This isn't fighting. It's foreplay."
Charlie sighed. "I was thinking the same."
Later, during a break, the group gathered at a café across from the studio. Anastasia sat between Veilah and Irene, trying to ignore Zake, who had somehow invited himself along and sat directly across from her. Dominique and Charlie took the end of the table, quietly enjoying the show.
The server placed coffee in front of them. Zake reached for the sugar at the same time Anastasia did. Their hands brushed.
Anastasia jerked back. "Don't touch me."
Zake chuckled. "Relax. I wasn't going to bite."
"You already are a bite," she muttered under her breath.
"What was that?" he asked, leaning closer.
"Nothing you need to hear."
"Princess, you don't get to whisper and then pretend it didn't happen."
Irene set her cup down firmly. "Stop. If you hate each other so much, stop talking."
Anastasia snapped, "I'm not talking to him."
"You just did," Zake said with a grin.
Veilah pinched the bridge of her nose. "You two are exhausting."
Charlie muttered, "They should just admit it and spare us the headache."
Dominique smirked. "But where's the fun in that?"
Anastasia glared at Zake. "Why are you even here?"
"Because you are," he answered simply. His tone was teasing, but his eyes softened, just for a second. Anastasia froze before quickly looking away.
Irene caught the look and stiffened. She whispered to Veilah, "Did you see that?"
Veilah nodded. "He means it. That's what scares me."
The following day, the set turned tense when a piece of lighting equipment slipped loose during a rehearsal. The heavy rig swayed overhead, ropes snapping.
"Watch out!" someone shouted.
The metal crashed toward the stage. Anastasia stood frozen beneath it.
Zake lunged, shoving her aside. They tumbled across the floor as the rig slammed down, dust exploding around them.
Anastasia gasped, pinned under Zake's weight. His face hovered inches from hers, their breaths mingling.
"You okay?" he asked, eyes searching hers.
Her heart pounded wildly. "Y-yes."
Crew members rushed over, lifting the rig, checking for damage. Irene stormed forward, pulling Anastasia up.
"Are you hurt?" she demanded.
"No," Anastasia said quickly, brushing dust off her costume. She turned to Zake, anger bubbling. "You didn't have to do that!"
Zake frowned. "You're welcome?"
"I don't need your protection."
His jaw tightened. "Too bad. I wasn't about to let you get crushed."
The way he said it quiet, firm, sincere made Anastasia falter. For a brief moment, no words came. Her throat tightened, her cheeks flushed.
Irene noticed and bristled. "Don't look at him like that."
Anastasia snapped back into her armor. She shoved Zake lightly. "Stay out of my way."
Zake smirked, masking the flicker of vulnerability in his eyes. "Not a chance."
That evening, Dominique and Charlie lingered in the dressing area, overhearing raised voices. Anastasia and Zake stood at opposite ends of the corridor, yet their energy filled the space.
Anastasia hissed, "Why can't you leave me alone?"
"Because you don't want me to," Zake fired back.
"You don't know what I want."
"I know exactly what you want," he said, stepping closer. "You want me to shut up, stop teasing, stop following. But if I did, you'd miss me."
Her lips parted, stunned. "You're full of yourself."
He stopped a breath away, eyes locked on hers. "Then prove me wrong. Tell me you don't care."
She stared, trembling slightly. But the words refused to come.
Dominique whispered to Charlie, "This is going to explode."
Charlie nodded. "Sooner than later."
Anastasia finally shoved Zake back, though her hands lingered longer than necessary on his chest. "You're impossible."
Zake smirked faintly. "And you like it."
Her cheeks burned as she stormed off.
Dominique leaned against the wall. "That wasn't a fight."
Charlie exhaled. "That was confession in disguise."