Chapter 61 – Alexis's Public Confession
The set was buzzing with anticipation, the kind that makes your ears ring and your stomach do flips like it's auditioning for a gymnastics team. Cameras swiveled, lights blazed, and the entire production crew seemed to hold their collective breath. I stood in the center of it all, dressed in something far too sparkly for my nerves, gripping the microphone like it was a lifeline.
Dante was next to me, impossibly calm, radiating a kind of quiet confidence that made me simultaneously want to hug him and throttle him. His hand brushed mine, accidental or not, and my chest betrayed me with a sudden, chaotic flutter. I squeezed back just slightly, a silent acknowledgment that yes, I needed him—and yes, the audience might notice if I melted into him on live television.
The host grinned, his enthusiasm bordering on manic. "And now, the moment you've all been waiting for. Our final contestant has something important to say, something that could change everything." He waved dramatically, clearly feeding off the tension like it was some addictive sugar rush.
I swallowed hard, my throat tight. My pulse hammered in my ears. Everything—the rivalry, the scheming, the fake betrayals, the staged heartbreaks—culminated in this single moment. And yet, beneath the fear, beneath the nerves, there was clarity. I knew what I had to do.
Taking a deep breath, I stepped forward. The cameras rolled in close, catching every microexpression, every tremor in my hand. My fingers tightened around the microphone as I forced myself to speak, to let the words come even if my voice shook.
"I… have something I need to say," I began, my eyes instinctively searching for Dante's. He met my gaze immediately, dark and steady, and the world shrank until it was just us. "Something I've been holding back for far too long."
The crew went quiet, the hum of anticipation thick in the air. Even the rival contestants, perched like birds ready to swoop in with commentary or sabotage, seemed momentarily frozen.
"I…" I paused, my heart hammering. "I love him. Dante, I love you."
There was a heartbeat of silence that stretched long enough for my stomach to knot into an anxious pretzel. Then… the world exploded.
Dante's jaw dropped, a flush creeping up his neck that I could see even under the harsh studio lights. His hand shot out, gripping mine in a way that was both possessive and tender, grounding me. "You… you mean that?" he asked, his voice low, thick with disbelief and something warmer—something that made my knees feel unsteady.
"I do," I admitted, the words tumbling out like a confession I'd rehearsed a thousand times but never truly believed I'd say. "All of it. The chaos, the fights, the stupid games… I don't care about any of that. I just… I want us. I want you."
The audience went wild, the cheers and applause echoing like a thunderclap in my chest. Cameras swiveled to catch the spectacle, and for the first time, the entire house felt like it existed for us, not for ratings, not for drama, not for scripted tension.
Dante's lips curved into a smile—slow, melting, and entirely mine. He stepped closer, bridging the small gap between us until our hands remained intertwined, our shoulders brushing. "You really mean it?" he whispered, leaning so close I could feel the heat of his breath, and for a second, the cameras, the audience, the world faded.
"I do," I repeated, voice firmer this time, bolstered by the courage I found in the intensity of the moment.
He leaned down, pressing a soft kiss to my forehead, just above my brow, and it sent a shockwave through me that left my knees weak. The cameras caught it all—the subtle intimacy, the undeniable connection, the public confession made personal by the tenderness of the gesture.
"You're impossible," he muttered, teasing but with an edge of awe, his forehead resting against mine. "And I love you for it."
I laughed softly, a sound full of relief and joy, and the tension that had wrapped around my chest like steel for months began to ease. "I guess that makes two of us, then."
The host, recovering from his own stunned silence, clapped enthusiastically. "Well, folks, I think we can officially call this the most genuine, swoon-worthy, and headline-grabbing confession in reality TV history!"
The audience erupted again, and I couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. Here we were—on a manufactured stage, under the scrutiny of millions—and yet, for the first time, it felt real. Unscripted. Honest.
Of course, the rivals weren't thrilled. I caught Jade's narrowed eyes from across the stage, her lips pressing into a tight line as if she were trying to bite back words that would've been venomous enough to sting through the screen. But even her glare couldn't dampen the warmth radiating between Dante and me.
He leaned closer, whispering into my ear in a voice that sent tiny sparks straight to my nerves. "You've got no idea how long I've been waiting to hear you say that."
"I think I do," I replied, smirking despite the lingering nerves. "I've been rehearsing this confession in my head since… forever. Just needed the cameras to push me over the edge."
His laugh was low and rich, vibrating against me in a way that made my stomach do somersaults. "And here I thought you might chicken out."
"I almost did," I admitted, rolling my eyes, though the blush on my cheeks betrayed my lie. "But then I realized… I don't care who's watching. I care about you. And if anyone doesn't like it—they can keep scrolling."
His hands slid to my waist, pulling me closer in a movement that was both protective and possessive. "Good. Because I'm not letting you go."
For a moment, the world outside ceased to exist. Cameras, lights, cheering fans—they all melted into a blur, leaving only the two of us. The rush of public scrutiny was replaced by something far more intense: the raw, undeniable, heart-stopping reality that we had finally admitted it to each other, out loud, and nothing else mattered.
The producers, usually hovering and directing chaos, seemed caught off guard. They'd planned drama, manipulation, fake heartbreak—but nothing could compete with this. Not the rival scheming, not the staged betrayal, not the endless spin of reality television. This… this was real. And viewers across the nation seemed to agree, the online buzz exploding with hashtags, fan reactions, and more GIFs of Dante and me than I could possibly scroll through in one sitting.
I felt Dante squeeze my waist, a subtle but grounding gesture. "See? You don't need to play games with me. Not anymore."
"I think I finally understand that," I said softly, letting the words carry the weight they deserved. "I've wasted too much time worrying about what everyone else thinks… when all I needed was you. And now… we get to stop pretending."
He chuckled softly, brushing a stray strand of hair from my face, the motion tender and intimate. "Pretending has never been our strong suit anyway," he whispered, eyes glinting with mischief and warmth. "Good thing we're finally honest."
As the audience continued to cheer, and the rival contestants' faces twisted into a mixture of annoyance and disbelief, I realized something profound. In a world of staged drama, manufactured chaos, and relentless scrutiny, we had carved out a private, sacred space of truth. The cameras could capture our smiles, our touches, our whispers—but they couldn't dilute the intensity of what we finally admitted.
And just like that, the world of reality television—the rivalry, the scheming, the constant pressure—felt secondary. Because we had chosen each other, publicly and unabashedly. Because love, finally, had the final word.
Dante pressed his forehead against mine, a silent but electric confirmation of what words could never fully capture. "I love you," he murmured, the simplicity of it breaking through every fear, every doubt.
"I love you too," I breathed, the weight of the confession lifting from my chest, replaced by a dizzying, intoxicating lightness. "And nothing else matters."
The cameras captured it all, the audience erupted again, and for the first time, I felt not just seen—but known.
No sabotage, no scandal, no rival plotting could touch what we had built in that moment. And as Dante's hands framed my face, his eyes locked on mine with unwavering certainty, I realized something thrilling and terrifying all at once: the real challenge had begun, and we were ready to face it together—love, courage, and all.
The applause and cheers carried us forward, but in the stillness between us, I felt the quiet, unshakable truth: we had survived the chaos, and now, finally, we had each other.