Leon couldn't help but find it a bit amusing, though he also felt a twinge of guilt.
He hadn't meant to show off, just share updates about his work, but he'd overlooked the delicate feelings of the girl beside him.
At the same time, he knew he couldn't keep indulging her jealousy. A little balance was in order.
"Anne Hathaway is a great fit for that role," Leon said calmly, trying to keep things objective. "Disney needs that dreamy, girl-next-door vibe. It's a business decision, Scarlett."
"Oh, sure, a business decision," Scarlett replied, her lips pursing, her tone carrying a noticeable edge. "A 'princess,' right? Gotta look pure, regal, untouchable, maybe even belt out a show tune or two."
"Not like me, stuck in indie films, playing rebellious, precocious, or slightly neurotic characters."
Her words dripped with self-deprecation and a faint, almost hidden trace of hurt.
She didn't dislike the roles she played, but compared to the dazzling path of a Disney blockbuster leading lady, it was hard not to feel a pang of envy and inadequacy.
Leon watched her puffed cheeks and flickering eyes, realizing her jealousy had fully spilled over.
She was adorable like this, but he also knew he needed to gently rein in her temper to avoid future flare-ups over nothing.
Still, he couldn't bring himself to say anything too harsh.
Leon stayed quiet for a few seconds, weighing his options.
Scarlett, seeing he wasn't immediately comforting her, seemed to grow even more aggrieved. She turned her head to stare out the window, pretending to ignore him, though her perked-up ears betrayed her close attention to his next move.
Finally, Leon let out a sigh and reached out to pull her back into his arms.
Scarlett made a token show of resistance before melting into him, her body still slightly tense.
"Scarlett," Leon said, his voice low and earnest, "do you think I only care about big commercial films? That I don't see your worth, or understand how much you want to break through and prove yourself?"
Scarlett didn't respond, but her body relaxed a fraction.
Leon continued, "Every actor has their own unique path. Anne Hathaway has her Disney princess, but you have a crown that's yours alone, one no one can take from you."
Scarlett froze, not quite grasping his meaning, and looked up at him with a puzzled expression.
Meeting her curious gaze, Leon spoke slowly, "Remember when I mentioned I was working on something else? Not a horror film, not a comedy."
Scarlett blinked, racking her brain. "I think… you mentioned once, something about a… historical story?"
"Exactly," Leon nodded, his eyes softening with a deep warmth. "Remember that time we went to an art exhibit, and there was that Vermeer painting, Girl with a Pearl Earring?"
He paused, looking at Scarlett, then continued, "When I saw that painting, I knew I wanted to write her story."
"And as I wrote it, the face I kept seeing in my mind was yours."
Scarlett's eyes widened, her breath catching.
Leon didn't keep her in suspense any longer, his voice soft as he revealed the truth: "I've written it. And it's just been shortlisted for the British Book Award."
"W-what?" Scarlett's mind went blank, her thoughts screeching to a halt.
She sat up straight, staring at Leon in disbelief, her voice trembling with shock. "You wrote a novel for me and it's up for the British Book Award? That huge literary prize? You?"
Her rapid-fire questions spilled out, reflecting her stunned confusion.
She knew Leon as the horror prodigy behind Final Destination, the sharp producer steering The Princess Diaries…
But when had he, without a whisper, written a serious novel that got shortlisted for a major literary award?!
And… did he just say he was thinking of her face while writing it?
Leon couldn't help but laugh at her gobsmacked expression, nodding affirmatively. "Yeah, I wrote it. Under the pen name 'L.D.' Published by a British press."
"It's a story imagining the life behind that painting, the emotions between a maid named Griet and the painter Vermeer."
He described the story's core briefly, his gaze never leaving Scarlett's eyes: "It's not a grand, sweeping love story. It needs a quiet, inward kind of emotional depth."
"It needs eyes that can speak, a face that can carry complex emotions while still holding onto innocence."
"Scarlett, from the moment I started crafting Griet, I knew only you could bring her to life."
Scarlett was utterly speechless, her mouth open, unable to form a single word.
The weight of his words—the depth of his affection and belief in her—hit her like a tidal wave.
The petty jealousy and hurt she'd felt over Anne Hathaway vanished, obliterated by this revelation.
In their place surged a burning, overwhelming mix of emotions that flooded her heart.
Shock, joy, disbelief, and profound gratitude swirled together, her eyes reddening, her nose stinging as tears welled up.
Leon had written a novel for her, without her even knowing?
A serious work, one recognized by the literary world?
He saw the actor in her, the one yearning for validation, and believed she could handle a complex, understated role?
The path he'd envisioned for her was far grander, far more meaningful than any Disney princess?
"Leon…" Her voice finally returned, choked with emotion, tears spilling freely. "Why didn't you tell me sooner? You actually…"
She couldn't finish, instead lightly pounding his chest with her fist—not out of anger, but as a release for the overwhelming happiness and gratitude flooding her.
Leon caught her fist, pulling her tightly back into his arms, whispering in her ear, "I wanted it to be a surprise. I wanted to wait until it was truly worthy of you. Now, the time's right."
Scarlett nodded fervently in his embrace, her tears soaking his pajamas.
Words couldn't capture how she felt.
All her earlier anxiety, insecurity, and jealousy seemed so small and silly in the face of this massive, unexpected gift.
He didn't just see her as she was now—he'd paved a path for her to reach a higher artistic peak.
It was more precious, more moving than any sweet words or extravagant gift.
She cried, then laughed, then cried again, taking a while to calm down.
Finally, she looked up at him, her teary eyes sparkling with urgency. "The script? Leon, is there a script? I want to see it! Right now!"
Her eager, childlike excitement, as if she'd just been given her favorite toy, melted Leon's heart.
"There's a first draft," he said, playfully tapping her nose with a smile. "But it's on my computer in the study. You sure you want to see it now? It's not even dawn."
"Yes! Right now!" Scarlett said firmly, leaping off the bed, grabbing one of Leon's shirts to throw on, and tugging him toward the study barefoot. "I can't wait a second longer! Show me what Griet's like!"
Leon laughed at her impatience, letting her drag him to the study.
He opened his computer, pulling up the first draft of the Girl with a Pearl Earring script.
Scarlett claimed the desk chair, diving into the text with laser focus, as if the rest of the world had vanished.
Leon set a glass of water on the desk and leaned against the nearby bookshelf, quietly watching her.
The screen's glow illuminated Scarlett's engrossed, excited face, her expressions shifting as she read: frowning in thought, nodding in realization, showing empathy, or holding her breath at the restrained yet powerful prose.
She was fully immersed in the 17th-century world of Delft, in the quiet, introspective life of Griet, the maid with an uncanny sensitivity to light and color.
Leon knew, in that moment, Scarlett Johansson had met Griet.
The unique "crown" meant for her was descending, waiting for her to claim it.
And he, watching silently, felt a quiet, profound satisfaction.
Anne Hathaway had her Genovia.
But Scarlett Johansson would have her Delft, her Vermeer, and her timeless pearl earring.
The night deepened, the study filled only with the soft sound of Scarlett scrolling and her focused breathing.