Summer's POV
The storm outside had ended.
The storm online had not.
By morning, the Confession Cam episode had been uploaded.
Within an hour, hashtags were everywhere.
> #EthanAndSummerConfession 💕
"They're literally soulmates!"
"That wasn't editing, that was destiny."
"I'm crying, who says romance is dead??"
Summer stared at the screen of the producer's tablet like it was a detonated bomb.
"They turned our breakdown into a love montage," she muttered.
Liam—standing nearby and entirely too cheerful—peeked at the comments. "You've broken the internet. Congratulations."
"Can I return the favor and break the editors?"
He laughed. "The audience ships you two hard. Maybe lean into it?"
She gave him a look sharp enough to cut coral. "Liam, if you say 'for publicity,' I swear—"
He raised his hands, backing off. "Okay, okay. But still… people love a redemption story."
"Yeah," she said quietly. "They just forget we're real people in it."
She handed the tablet back and walked down toward the beach, needing distance, needing air.
---
Ethan's POV
He'd stopped checking social media at dawn. There was no point. Every notification was a reminder of how public something private had become.
When he arrived at the beach, she was already there—barefoot in the tide, wind tangling her hair.
He hesitated, then joined her.
"Hey," he said softly.
She didn't turn. "You've seen it?"
He nodded. "Hard to miss when my name's trending next to yours."
"Lucky us," she said dryly. "We're a brand now."
He smiled faintly. "Not the worst brand."
"Ethan." Her voice cracked a little. "They made it look like a proposal."
"I know."
"People are writing think pieces about us."
He sighed. "Let them."
She turned finally, eyes sharp with frustration. "How can you be so calm?"
"Because fighting the edit won't change it," he said. "The only thing that's still real is what we said. That's ours."
Her lips parted, words stuck somewhere between protest and understanding.
"Do you regret it?" he asked quietly.
She looked away. "I don't know."
He smiled sadly. "I don't."
The honesty in his tone made her chest ache. "You never do," she murmured. "You always know what you want."
He laughed softly. "Only when it's you."
She froze. "Don't say things like that when there are microphones hidden everywhere."
"I don't care who hears anymore."
That was the difference between them. She was still trying to manage how the world saw them; he had stopped pretending there was a version of them that wasn't already on display.
---
Summer's POV
That afternoon, the crew called for a meeting. The producers were thrilled, all smiles and analytics.
"Our engagement metrics are through the roof!" one announced. "We're expanding the romance arc next episode—more couple missions, more emotional content!"
Summer felt her stomach twist. "You mean you want more of us."
"Exactly! The audience adores your chemistry."
She forced a polite nod, the kind actors give before a scene they hate.
When the meeting ended, she walked straight out of camp and found Ethan sitting on a fallen palm trunk near the edge of the forest.
"They're turning this into a circus," she said.
He looked up. "That's television."
"I know, but…" She trailed off. "I didn't expect to care this much."
His expression softened. "You do care."
"I care about what's real and what isn't."
"Then stop pretending this isn't real," he said gently.
Her heart gave a painful, traitorous thump. "Ethan—"
"Just… stop protecting me from your feelings. I can handle them."
She stared at him, stunned by the quiet certainty in his voice.
Finally, she whispered, "You make it sound easy."
"It's not," he said. "But it's simple."
He stood, brushing sand off his hands, and smiled a little. "If they want a story, fine. But let's at least make it ours."
Before she could answer, he walked toward the water, leaving her in the gold haze of sunset—torn between fear and the slow, rising pull of something that felt dangerously like hope.
---
Ethan's POV
That night, as the crew packed up equipment, he sat by the fire scrolling through one last article before finally shutting the tablet off.
Headline:
> "Ethan Reid's Confession Wasn't Acting—Sources Say Feelings Are Real."
He laughed quietly to himself. Sources say. As if the internet knew what the inside of his chest felt like when she smiled.
Across the camp, he saw her silhouette near the water, her hair catching the firelight.
Maybe the world had gotten the story wrong. But for the first time in a long time, he didn't mind being misunderstood—because somewhere in all that noise, the truth was still alive.
And maybe, just maybe, she felt it too.