Sometimes, when memories arrived uninvited, Liora wondered how it all began. Not the coded messages, the sudden invitations, or his presence in the corner of a bar years later. But the real beginning. The lit stage, the cameras spinning, and five young people trying to survive a show that promised fame but delivered far more than they had expected.
The show wasn't an ordinary reality program. It was a mix of competition and coexistence, where talents were tested, limits were pushed, and exposure left no room for rest. It was there that she met Maya, with her contagious laugh; Jonas, always ready to improvise a joke; Eren, silent and deeper than his age suggested; and, of course, Caelan.
Caelan wasn't just another contestant. He was the kind of person who, without even trying, drew every eye in the room. Not because of charm, he rarely showed any but because of the way he moved, as if the world bent itself around his presence. With the others, he was arrogant, incisive, almost cruel. But with her… there were nuances.
At first, Liora didn't notice. She was too busy trying to stay steady during auditions, memorizing lines, rehearsing routines, and pretending she wasn't trembling in front of the cameras. But a quick glance exchanged during breaks was enough to realize he watched her differently.
By the third week, the first real conflict erupted. A challenge required the five of them to perform a short play written in less than twenty-four hours. Maya wanted something light, Jonas insisted on humor, Eren suggested drama, and Caelan, of course, decided there was only one "right" way to do it.
"You don't get it," he said, slamming the script on the table, impatient. "This isn't about pleasing the audience. It's about showing intensity."
"No, Caelan, this is about working as a team," Liora replied, firm, her voice steady but unwavering.
It was the first time someone had confronted him without trembling. The others swallowed hard, used to giving in to avoid storms. He looked at her as if facing a puzzle he couldn't solve.
"And you think you can lead better than me?" he asked, provocatively.
"I don't think. I know. If you want to win alone, you should have signed up for something else. Here, we're five." She crossed her arms, staring into his eyes as if daring them to burn.
The silence that followed was heavy enough to make Maya clear her throat and Jonas try to break the tension with a joke. But Caelan only smiled, a short, dangerous smile that revealed nothing but control.
That night, during rehearsals, he was harsh with everyone. He corrected Jonas's lines with sarcasm, criticized Maya for laughing too much, said Eren was slow. But with Liora… not really. He did correct her, yes, but without humiliation. He simply suggested adjustments in a low voice that, to her surprise, actually worked.
It was then she understood: he saw her differently. Not fragile, not someone to be molded. But someone who could resist.
And paradoxically, that was what annoyed her the most. Because if he had approached her like a normal person, invited her for coffee, a walk, a conversation without games, maybe she would have said yes. Maybe she even would have liked it.
But no. Caelan chose to pressure, always. Test, always. Make every interaction a silent battle. And because of that, Liora learned to raise walls around herself.
The show ended, each of them went their separate ways, and life seemed to have put enough distance between them. But sometimes, in the bars of memory and in unexpected messages, it all came back. And she remembered, with painful clarity, why it would never be simple.