Chapter 4 – The Weight of Scandal (Rewritten)
The storm was worse than before.
The night after Adrian's interview, the media latched onto her like wolves. Every site, every channel, every trending topic seemed to have her face splashed across it.
But this time, it wasn't pity they spun into their headlines. It was venom.
"Shameless Girl Disrupts Interview With Creepy Smile."
"Who Is She? The Laughingstock of the Nation."
"Adrian Cole Harassed by Repeat Stalker."
Clips of her were replayed on loop: the moment when the cameras caught her smiling from the audience. The smile had been brave, defiant even, but in the hands of the masses, it became fuel for ridicule.
Comment sections were cesspools:
> "Look at her, grinning like a fool. Doesn't she realize he doesn't care?"
"This is what obsession looks like. It's pathetic."
"Ban her from every event. She's a danger to Adrian."
Memes followed, cruel edits that twisted her expression into something grotesque. She became a punchline overnight.
Maya stared at the phone screen, her lips trembling, her heart pounding like a drum of shame. Every word pierced, every image burned, but she held on.
She pressed the phone to her chest and whispered, "I won't stop."
---
"Are you listening to yourself?"
Tessa barged into her room, tossing a handful of printed tabloids onto the bed. "They're tearing you apart! Look at these headlines. Look at what they're saying about you!"
Maya's eyes scanned the papers—her photo under bold letters, accusations of obsession, even speculation about her mental health.
She wanted to cry, but she didn't.
Instead, she whispered, "They can laugh at me all they want. As long as I don't disappear."
Tessa threw up her hands. "Disappear? Maya, that's exactly what you need to do. Before they crush you completely. Before you lose yourself."
Maya shook her head, her voice firmer this time. "No. If I vanish, they'll be right. If I vanish, I'll always be the pathetic girl who gave up after one humiliation. But if I stay… if I keep standing in front of him, one day he'll see me differently."
Tessa stared at her as if she had gone mad. Finally, she muttered, "Fine. But if he breaks you, don't expect me to pick up the pieces."
Maya managed a small smile. "You always pick up my pieces anyway."
---
Adrian's world was quieter on the surface, but no less turbulent.
In the sterile meeting room of his management company, his name was being dissected like a commodity.
His manager pushed a tablet across the table, displaying screenshots of Maya at the interview. "Do you see this? Do you understand how damaging this is? She's making you look vulnerable, unprofessional. People are starting to talk."
Adrian leaned back in his chair, fingers tapping against the armrest. His jaw was tight. "She's not dangerous. Just a fan."
"Just a fan?" The manager's tone dripped with disbelief. "Adrian, this is the third time she's inserted herself into your public life. First the fan signing, now the interview. If we don't act, it'll escalate. We're putting her on the blacklist. No more appearances. Security will escort her out the second she shows her face."
The words hit him harder than he expected.
Blacklist. Escort. Remove.
Images flashed in his mind: daisies tumbling from trembling hands, a wavering voice saying his name, a smile that shone stubbornly in the face of cruelty.
"Isn't that… excessive?" he found himself asking.
The manager gaped. "Excessive? Adrian, she's humiliating you in front of the world. Don't tell me you feel sorry for her."
Adrian schooled his expression, hiding the flicker of doubt. "Of course not. Do what you have to do."
The meeting ended. But as he walked out, unease lingered. The thought of never seeing her again left a strange, hollow ache in his chest.
---
The night of the charity concert arrived.
The arena pulsed with energy—thousands of fans holding lightsticks, chanting his name in perfect rhythm. Giant screens lit up with his face as he stepped onto the stage, guitar slung across his shoulder.
Adrian smiled for the cameras, for the fans, for the performance. But beneath the lights, something restless gnawed at him.
And then—he saw her.
Maya was there, standing in the crowd.
Her white dress glowed under the strobe lights, her hair catching flecks of gold. She was smaller than the banners, quieter than the thunderous chants, but her presence cut through everything.
She raised her hands and cheered his name louder than anyone. Her voice carried across the waves of sound like a beacon.
For a heartbeat, he faltered. His fingers slipped slightly on the strings, his voice catching in his throat.
The band continued seamlessly, but he felt it. That jolt, that pull.
Security noticed her almost instantly. Two guards began weaving through the crowd toward her.
But Maya didn't flinch. She stood taller, smiling as if she had won.
Adrian forced himself to keep singing, but the words came out rawer, heavier. His voice wasn't just polished perfection tonight. It was something else—something real.
And Maya knew it.
Her chest swelled, tears pricking at her eyes. She had reached him. Even if for a fleeting second, she had reached him.
The guards grabbed her arms. She was dragged toward the exit. People stared, some sneering, some mocking, some whispering.
Maya didn't struggle. She just looked back at him, smiling through her tears.
And Adrian, on stage before thousands, couldn't look away until she was gone.
---
The fallout was immediate.
Photos flooded the internet: Maya being escorted by guards, her face streaked with tears.
"Stalker Girl Removed From Concert Grounds."
"Fan Harasses Adrian Even at Charity Event."
"Tears of a Delusional Obsession."
The cruelty doubled. Commenters laughed at her misery, called her a disgrace, a parasite. Some even demanded she be fined or arrested.
Tessa slammed her phone on the table. "Enough! Maya, this has to stop. They're going to destroy you. Can't you see? You're only making it worse!"
Maya sat quietly, the glow of the phone reflecting in her damp eyes. The photo on the screen showed her broken expression, but behind her, blurred in the spotlight, was Adrian—frozen mid-song, looking straight at her.
"No," she whispered. "I'm not done. Not yet."
Tessa covered her face with her hands, groaning. "You're hopeless."
Maya smiled faintly, touching the image as if it could warm her. "Maybe. But he saw me."
---
Adrian sat alone in his dressing room, the roar of the crowd long faded.
He should have felt relief. She was gone. His management was satisfied. His reputation would recover.
But he couldn't shake the image—the tears on her cheeks, the smile that refused to die, the way her presence pulled something raw from his voice he hadn't felt in years.
He rubbed a hand over his face, muttering under his breath. "Why do you keep haunting me?"
His phone buzzed. A message.
Lila: Adrian~ you were perfect tonight. I watched every second. Your voice made me cry. I'm so proud of you. Don't forget to drink something warm before bed, okay?
Attached was a photo—Lila, tiny and sweet-faced, holding a mug of cocoa with her cheeks puffed out like a child.
Adrian's lips softened despite himself. She was everything gentle, everything soft. She grounded him. She reminded him of loyalty, of promises.
He typed back: Thank you, Lila. Sweet dreams.
But when he put the phone down, the sweetness faded, leaving only silence.
And in that silence, the face that lingered wasn't Lila's.
It was Maya's—tear-streaked, smiling, unbroken.