The first thing Eleanor heard when she walked into the supermarket that morning was Gabriel's voice.
His newest single—her words, her melody—blared from the overhead speakers, pulling every customer into its glow. Teenagers hummed along as they tossed bags of chips into baskets; mothers swayed slightly as they scanned barcodes on self-checkout machines. Eleanor stood frozen for a moment in the cereal aisle, her fingers wrapped around a carton of milk that wasn't hers, her heart thudding so loudly she feared others might hear.
It was his voice, but it was her soul. She had written those lines at 2 a.m., sitting cross-legged on the thin mattress in her rented room, the streetlight casting orange shadows through the cracked curtains. Her name would never be printed on the album, nor whispered in interviews. And yet, hearing strangers sing along with her pain was a strange kind of vindication.
She shook her head, forcing a smile as Mrs. Han from checkout called her. "Eleanor, hurry, line's building up!"
The day passed in its blur of scanning groceries, bowing apologies, and repeating, 'Thank you, please come again.' By evening, she had traded her supermarket apron for a restaurant uniform, feet aching but her voice still carrying a tune under her breath. Gabriel's tune. Always Gabriel's tune.
---
Meanwhile, Gabriel sat in a velvet-upholstered lounge chair, Olivia by his side. The press had been relentless ever since rumors of their "friendship" leaked, but tonight, the two of them were bold enough to dine at an upscale restaurant without disguises. Olivia shone like a chandelier in a sequined dress, her laugh bubbling in the air like champagne.
She was everything Eleanor wasn't.
Confident, radiant, the kind of beauty that didn't beg for attention but demanded it. She leaned in close, her manicured fingers brushing against Gabriel's wrist as she teased, "You really need to learn how to flirt without blushing like a schoolboy."
Gabriel smirked, though a part of him stiffened. Olivia wasn't wrong—her boldness unsettled him. With Eleanor, things were easy. He didn't need to impress. She bent without breaking, folded herself into his life like a shadow. She never demanded, never questioned. With Olivia, however, every conversation was a duel. Every smile dared him to rise higher.
He liked that. Maybe too much.
Still, as Olivia spoke about her upcoming fashion campaign, his mind flickered back to Eleanor. To her small hands scrubbing dishes at night, to the way she always looked over her shoulder when leaving his place before dawn, afraid someone might see. A pang of guilt shot through him, but he silenced it quickly. Eleanor wasn't going anywhere. She couldn't.
---
Eleanor walked home under the streetlights, the restaurant's grease still clinging to her hair and clothes. The night air was damp, but it felt like freedom after hours of forced smiles. She passed by a glowing billboard of Gabriel's face—a giant smile, sharp jawline, eyes that seemed to see straight through the world.
She stopped, hugging her jacket tighter. That was her Gabriel, and yet not. The boy who once shared a single sandwich with her after school, who had cried in her arms when his father called him useless, was gone. Or maybe buried deep beneath the glitter.
Her phone buzzed. A text.
Gabriel: Come over tomorrow night. I need you.
Her lips curved upward despite the exhaustion dragging her down. He still needed her. That was enough, wasn't it? Enough to silence the gnawing ache that whispered he was drifting farther away. Enough to make her believe she wasn't just a shadow in his life.
---
The next evening, Eleanor slipped through the back entrance of Gabriel's luxury apartment. He was sprawled on the couch, hair damp from the shower, a notebook open on the coffee table.
"You're late," he muttered without looking up.
"I had extra shifts," she replied softly, removing her shoes.
He glanced at her then, and for a fleeting moment, warmth sparked in his eyes. "Sit. I need new lyrics. Something raw. Something that hurts."
And like always, Eleanor obeyed. She sat cross-legged beside him, pen in hand, and let her heart spill into the paper—lines about longing, about burning for someone who barely saw you. Gabriel read them, lips curving into a satisfied smile, then leaned in to press his mouth against hers.
The kiss was hungry, practiced, claiming. For a second, Eleanor melted—this was the boy she had loved for ten years, wasn't it? Yet as his hands slid against her waist, his phone buzzed on the table. A name flashed. Olivia.
Gabriel ignored it. But Eleanor saw. And something inside her cracked, just slightly.
---
Later, as he slept soundly with his arm draped possessively over her, Eleanor lay awake, staring at the ceiling. Olivia's name burned into her thoughts. Who was she to him? A colleague? A friend? Or… something more?
Her chest tightened, but she forced the doubt down. He loves me. He always has. I'm the one who stood by him when no one else did. He wouldn't betray that.
And yet, when she slipped out before dawn, walking the long road back to her tiny flat, the question lingered like smoke.
---
Gabriel woke to an empty bed. As always. He stretched, reaching for his phone. Olivia had texted:
Had fun last night. Same again tomorrow?
He smirked. Olivia was intoxicating, unpredictable. But Eleanor… Eleanor was necessary. She was his anchor, his muse, his secret.
He thought of the way she looked at him—with devotion that bordered on worship. She'd never leave. Even if he married someone else, she'd remain. She was too loyal, too entangled in his world to ever escape.
And he would never let her go.
Because Gabriel Lee's brightest spotlight still depended on the girl hidden in the shadows.