We were both sitting on the terrace—just staring up at the night sky, each holding a glass of apple juice and a bowl of popcorn.
"I'm going to miss this," he said out of nowhere, making me glance at him. He gave me a soft smile before looking at the stars again. "This. Just… something simple. Apple juice and popcorn. On your terrace, watching the stars." He sighed. "After my shoot."
"Oh come on. It's not like there aren't terraces in the U.S.," I nudged his shoulder playfully. "You can still do everything we do here—even in America."
He pouted and leaned his head against my shoulder. "But it won't be this terrace. And you won't be there either." He sounded like a child sulking. "Even the apple juice will taste different there—it's imported. And the popcorn… it'll have all these weird flavors. Not like yours. Yours is so salty." His voice turned teasing.
I lightly pinched his side. "You're the one who finishes all my popcorn!"
He laughed softly. "Exactly! That's why I feel like I'm going to get kidney stones from all that salt."
We both laughed. Honestly, he had a point. We didn't eat popcorn every single day, but whenever we were together, it somehow always made an appearance. And it was always salty. It would totally be my fault if something happened to his kidneys. I hope not, though.
"Fine, next time I'll make a different flavor," I said in a mock-hurt voice. "Since you clearly don't like my salted popcorn."
His eyes widened as he tightened his hold on my arm. "What do you mean I don't like it? I love your popcorn, Naure. I'd eat it every day—even if I do end up with kidney stones—it's still my favorite!"
Back then, our conversations used to be quick and easy. We could read each other in every glance, every cough, every breath. But now… something felt different. Like we were different. Like something had quietly changed between us.
A gentle tap on my shoulder brought me back to reality. I looked up and saw Cathy. I smiled quickly.
"Don't be nervous," she said, lightly patting my shoulder. "They're not going to bite."
I shook my head. "I'm not nervous," I said, chuckling. "Look at Aries, he's the nervous one. That's like his fourth bottle of water already."
"Let him be. I'm more worried about you," she said. "If they ask something you're not sure how to answer, you don't have to. We've got your back."
I laughed. "It's my book. What could they possibly ask that I don't know how to answer?"
"Oh really? Let's test that." Just the way Cathy grinned made my heart start racing, but I tried to keep my expression neutral—even if I felt like my chest was about to burst.
"What inspired you to write Until Our Paths Meet Again?"
I let out a breath of relief. That was easy.
"Well, a friend of mine inspired the story. You know how we always hear our friends talk about their love stories—whether it's a rant, something romantic, or a hard-learned lesson. I got inspired to write this novel because of the way she shared her love story with me. I asked for her permission, of course, before I started writing."
Cathy narrowed her eyes at me and slowly leaned in. "And who's her?"
I bit my lip and looked away. My heart began racing all over again, and I swear I started sweating. "T-They won't ask that," I stammered as I stood up and walked away from her.
She just laughed at my reaction. "See? Told you. You're not ready for that question," she said, hands on her hips.
I avoided her gaze. "Well, it's not something they'll ask anyway—so I won't have to answer it."
"But what if they do?" Aries chimed in suddenly. I hadn't even realized he was nearby.
I gave a smug smile. "Well, it's kind of private, so I can't name her—but I'll say she's a close friend. That's what I'll say."
The two of them nodded, thumbs up. "Alright then. Looks like you are ready."
I smiled, but then… my eyes flickered toward the doorway, and just like that, my smile vanished. I saw a familiar figure quickly walking away. I blinked and looked away. I wasn't sure if my nerves were because of the press… or because of him.
Soon after, the press event began. One by one, the cast was introduced, and each name brought cheers and screams from the crowd. I could see everything from backstage—the cameras, the media, the fans—and it only made my heart pound louder.
I bit down hard on my lip and shifted where I stood. My chest was thudding so hard I could almost hear it. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to breathe, over and over, just to calm myself—but it wasn't working.
Then suddenly, someone took my hand—firmly, gently. They gave it a squeeze.
I looked up without thinking… and it was Emilliano.
He was smiling at me, calm and warm, and whether I wanted to admit it or not… that simple gesture was what finally settled me down.
He didn't say a word. But with just a look, he told me everything I needed to hear.
"Now, let's welcome… Emillio Aceves!" the host called out.
He let go of my hand—and with it, as if he also took away the anxiety that had filled my chest.
"Emillio Aceves as Emillio Acosta!"
Thunderous applause erupted outside. The crowd's screams echoed through the room, and for a moment, I couldn't help but smile and clap too.
That person… that man…
It hit me just then—just how far he'd come.
So far.
So far from me.