Spotlights swept across the stage, flashing like manufactured constellations. Applause erupted, thunderous and unrelenting, echoing all the way to the bones. Every camera pointed toward one figure: a young woman in a shimmering silver gown, lips curved in the perfect smile of triumph.
Aria Lee.
Her name had exploded across the entertainment industry in less than a year. From a voiceless extra to winning the award for Best New Actress, she was now the nation's newly crowned darling. Fans screamed her name, commentators called her "the new goddess of the screen."
At the microphone, Aria delivered her acceptance speech with practiced poise. Words of gratitude rolled smoothly off her tongue—for her director, the staff, her agency, and of course, her fans. Her voice was steady, her expression serene. Nobody could guess that beneath the glittering gown and flawless makeup, her heart was pounding so hard it hurt.
Not from excitement.
Not from nerves.
But from a secret.
As the lights dimmed and she bowed, her gaze instinctively flicked toward the first row. There, half-hidden under a cap and mask, sat a man in a plain black suit. Almost no one noticed him, but Aria did. She always would. His eyes locked with hers for a fraction of a second—sharp, steady, and devastatingly familiar.
Kael.
To the world, Kael was the brightest idol of his generation. His voice ruled the charts, his face gleamed on billboards from Seoul to New York. Millions adored him as their unreachable first love. But to Aria, Kael was something far more intimate, far more dangerous.
He was her husband.
---
Two hours later, when the press conference ended and the flood of flashing cameras finally subsided, Aria sank into the dressing room sofa. The gown still clung to her, her heels still bit into her feet, but exhaustion pressed heavier than either fabric or leather.
A soft knock came. The door creaked open just enough for a familiar voice to slip through.
"Tired?"
Aria's lips curved into a faint smile. "You shouldn't be here."
Kael stepped inside, closing the door with deliberate care. With his cap and mask gone, his face was revealed—an idol's smile softened into something private. "I had to see you hold that trophy. It's not every day my wife wins a national award."
The word wife tasted bittersweet, forbidden outside these four walls.
Aria bent down, slipping off her heels with a long sigh. "If your manager finds out, we're both dead."
"Let him." Kael sat beside her, his fingers brushing hers, warm and grounding. "I don't care, as long as I can be near you tonight."
Silence stretched between them. Aria stared at the golden trophy resting on the table, its polished surface gleaming under the light. It should have felt like victory, like fulfillment. Instead it only sharpened the knot of guilt, fear, and uncertainty coiled in her chest.
"Sometimes I wonder…" Her voice was barely audible. "…how long we can keep this up. Hiding. Pretending we're strangers on camera, when at home we share the same bed."
Kael's eyes lingered on her, serious in a way he never allowed the public to see. "As long as it takes," he said quietly. "Until the right time comes."
"And if the right time never comes?"
He smiled faintly, almost stubbornly. "Then I'll create it myself."
Aria wanted to believe him. She truly did. But the entertainment world was merciless. Beyond the dazzling lights lay shadows that could swallow them whole—gossip, paparazzi, obsessive fans, contracts with suffocating clauses. One slip, one photo, and their secret marriage would end their careers overnight.
A sudden knock shattered the fragile moment. Her manager's voice rang from the hallway:
"Aria, the car is ready. Reporters are still waiting. We need to leave now."
Kael released her hand instantly, retreating into the shadows of the room. His face shuttered, his warmth carefully erased. Aria stood, fixing her gown, forcing professionalism back onto her features.
"I'll be right out," she called, opening the door with her award-winning smile.
When the door swung wide, Kael was already gone. Only the faint trace of his cologne lingered in the air, like proof of a dream.
---
That night, as the black car carried her through the glittering city, Aria leaned against the window. Neon signs bled past her reflection, like endless camera flashes she could never escape.
To the outside world, she was the rising star, the girl who had it all.
Inside, she was simply a woman guarding a forbidden love that could ignite into scandal at any second.
Her fingers clenched around the cold metal of the trophy on her lap. The smile she wore on stage had faded, replaced by the question that haunted her every heartbeat:
How much longer can I protect this secret?