Joan's POV
I threw my phone across my room when Jake hung up on me again.
This was the third time this week he had canceled our dinner plans. The third time he said he was "too busy" to see his own girlfriend. The third time I felt like I was meeting a stranger instead of the boy I thought I loved.
My perfect life was beginning to feel like a beautiful prison.
"Joan, you're being dramatic," I told myself, picking up my phone from where it had landed under the couch. "Jake is just stressed about his new job."
But deep down, I knew something was wrong. Jake used to text me good morning every single day. Now I was lucky if he called me once a week. When we did talk, he seemed distant and cold, like he was talking to a business partner instead of his lover.
My flat felt too quiet and too big. The walls were covered with platinum records and awards, but they couldn't fill the loneliness growing in my chest.
I called Serena, my best friend since youth. She would know what to say to make me feel better.
"Hey girl!" Serena answered on the first ring. "What's up?"
"Jake canceled on me again," I said, trying not to sound as hurt as I felt. "I think something's wrong with us."
There was a pause. "Joan, honey, maybe you should think about why that is."
"What do you mean?"
"I mean, you've changed a lot since you got famous. You're not the same person Jake fell in love with."
Her words hit me like a slap. "What's that supposed to mean?"
"You missed his birthday party last month because of a picture shoot. You forgot about my raise at work because you were busy with interviews. You only call us when you need something or when you're feeling lonely."
I felt my cheeks get hot. "That's not fair, Serena. My job is demanding. You know that."
"I know you used to care more about people than photo shoots."
The line went quiet for a moment. Then Serena sighed. "Look, I love you, Joan. But sometimes I miss the girl who used to bake cookies with me on Sundays and remember my middle name."
After we hung up, I sat in my empty apartment feeling worse than before. Was everyone right? Had I really changed that much?
I looked at myself in the mirror across the room. The same face that smiled from magazine covers and ads stared back at me. But the girl in the mirror looked tired and sad.
My phone rang again. This time it was Vanessa, my boss.
"Joan! Great news!" she said in her always-excited voice. "I just booked you for three magazine covers next month and a commercial deal worth two million dollars!"
"That's wonderful," I said, but my voice sounded flat even to myself.
"What's wrong? You should be happy! This commercial will put you in front of fifty million people!"
"Vanessa, can I ask you something?"
"Of course, sweetie. What is it?"
"Do you think I've changed since I became famous?"
Vanessa laughed. "Of course you've changed! You've become a hero! You're bold, successful, powerful. Everything we worked for!"
"But what if I've changed in bad ways too?"
"Joan, honey, change is good. You can't stay the same small-town girl forever. Your friends love who you are now."
"But what about the people who knew me before?"
"Joan, you can't worry about every person from your past. You're bigger than that now. You're Joan Robert, not little Joanie from nowhere."
After she hung up, I understood that everyone in my life was telling me different things. Jake and Serena said I had changed for the worse. Vanessa said I had changed for the better. My parents worried I was losing myself. My friends thought I was perfect.
Who was right? Who was I supposed to believe?
I walked over to my piano and started playing one of my old songs. The melody felt familiar and comfortable, like putting on an old sweater that still fit perfectly.
But as I played, I noticed something that made my stomach hurt. I couldn't remember the last time I had written a song just because I wanted to. Everything I did now was planned by teams and focus groups. Every decision was made to help my job.
When had music stopped being fun and started being work?
My doorbell rang, stopping my thoughts. I wasn't expecting anyone, but maybe Jake had chosen to surprise me with an apology.
I opened the door and found a delivery guy holding a huge bouquet of black roses.
"Joan Robert?" he asked.
"Yes, that's me."
"These are for you. Have a nice day."
Black roses? Who gives black roses? I looked for a card and found a small white package tucked between the thorns.
My hands started shaking as I opened it.
"Enjoying your beautiful life? Don't get too comfortable. Everything you love is about to disappear. The truth about who you really are is coming out soon. Your fans, your friends, your family - they're all going to see the real Joan Robert. And they're going to hate what they see. Sweet dreams, superstar."
The flowers fell from my hands and spread across my floor.
Someone was watching me. Someone knew where I lived. Someone wanted to destroy everything I had worked for.
But what fact were they talking about? What had I done that was so terrible?
I ran to my windows and checked all the locks. I pulled the blinds closed and turned off all the lights. My beautiful flat suddenly felt like a trap.
My phone buzzed with a text from an unknown number: "Check your email. "Now."
With shaky fingers, I opened my email app. There was one new message with no subject line. The sender was described as "Someone Who Knows."
I clicked on it and saw a movie attachment.
It was footage of me from last week at a charity event. But something was wrong with it. The music didn't match what I remembered saying. In the film, it looked like I was being rude to a young volunteer, but I remembered being kind to everyone that night.
Someone had changed the video to make me look like a monster.
The email had one line of text: "This is just the beginning. Tomorrow, the whole world sees who you really are."
I dropped my phone and it clattered on the floor next to the black roses.
My perfect life wasn't perfect at all. It was built on lies, fake bonds, and people who only loved the idea of me.
And now someone was going to take it all away.
But the worst part was realizing that maybe I earned it.
Maybe the girl everyone was about to hate was who I had really become.