Chapter Eight — The First Take
(Sienna's pov:)
The studio feels different today.
Brighter. Sharper. Like the air itself knows something important is about to begin.
The set smells faintly of paper and dust — the "library" scene.
It's our first official day of filming The Last Page.
Rows of towering shelves surround us, fake but beautiful, filled with carefully aged books and that soft yellow light that makes everything feel nostalgic.
This is where Nora Quinn meets Calen Rowe again after years apart — their first quiet confrontation, layered with everything unsaid.
I've run the lines a hundred times, but my stomach still knots.
Axel stands across from me, calm as ever, in Calen's dark coat and rolled-up sleeves.
He's already in character — or maybe he just is Calen. Controlled chaos, one heartbeat away from falling apart.
"Ready?" Miles calls from behind the monitor.
"Always," Axel says smoothly.
"Yeah," I add, rolling my shoulders. "Let's give them a show."
"Action."
I step into the library's soft light, my heels echoing on the marble floor.
Nora: "You still haunt the same places."
Calen: "Only the ones that remind me of you."
The words hit harder than I expect. They always do.
Axel's gaze meets mine, steady and unreadable, and for a moment I forget there's a camera watching us.
Nora: "You shouldn't say things like that."
Calen: "Why? Because they sound true?"
I swallow — that's not in the script. He ad-libbed it.
And it's perfect.
Miles doesn't cut, and neither of us dares to break the moment.
Nora: "Because I might start believing you."
Calen: (softly) "Maybe that's the point."
Silence. The kind that vibrates in your chest.
Somewhere behind us, someone exhales audibly.
Miles: "...And cut."
Applause. Scattered but genuine.
I release a breath I didn't realize I was holding.
Axel smirks faintly, breaking character. "Not bad, Everglow."
"You ad-libbed again."
"Yeah," he says with a shrug. "It felt right."
"Don't make a habit of it."
He grins. "No promises."
After the first take, everyone relaxes — crew chatting, makeup touch-ups, lights being reset.
I grab a water bottle and head toward the monitors. Miles is talking to someone — a woman I haven't seen before.
She stands out instantly.
Long chestnut hair falls in soft waves down her back. Her skin is pale and luminous, her features delicate but arresting — the kind of beauty that feels effortless, like it just exists.
But it's her eyes that catch me — one a deep sea blue, the other hazel-gold, glinting under the studio lights.
Heterochromia.
She's younger than I expected. Late twenties, maybe early thirties.
And she's watching the playback with quiet intensity, her expression unreadable.
Miles notices me approaching and lights up.
"Sienna! Come meet someone very important."
The woman turns, and her smile is soft but precise. "You must be Sienna Everglow."
I nod, setting my water down. "And you must be…?"
She extends her hand. "Lyra Vale."
Her name fits her — lyrical, elegant, just a little otherworldly.
My breath catches. "You're the author?"
She nods. "Of The Last Page, yes. But please, just call me Lyra."
Axel joins us then, towel slung around his neck, still half Calen.
"So you're the woman behind all our emotional damage," he says lightly.
Lyra laughs — soft, musical. "I suppose you could put it that way. I didn't mean to write something so… devastating. But the best stories are the ones that hurt a little, don't you think?"
Her voice carries something — warmth, but also sorrow. Like she knows what it feels like to live inside the ache she writes about.
I smile faintly. "You've definitely succeeded, then."
She studies me quietly for a moment, almost like she's trying to read something invisible.
"I've watched your old films," she says finally. "You have this… stillness. Like your silence speaks louder than your dialogue. Nora is exactly that. Stillness that hides a storm."
The compliment hits deeper than I expect. "Thank you," I say softly. "That means a lot."
Her gaze flickers to Axel next. "And you, Mr. Reeve — Calen fits you. But he'll surprise you, if you let him."
Axel raises an eyebrow. "He already is."
Lyra smiles again — secretive this time. "Good."
As the day winds down, the final sunlight filters through the studio skylight, painting everything gold.
Lyra stays until the last take, quiet but observant, notebook in hand, eyes following every gesture, every glance.
Ember whispers to me between shots, "She's stunning. And mysterious. Like she walked straight out of her own book."
"Yeah," I say, still watching Lyra. "She kind of did."
When the wrap call echoes across the room, Lyra walks over again.
"You two were incredible today," she says sincerely. "Watching Nora and Calen come alive—it's like seeing pieces of myself I thought I'd buried."
I tilt my head. "You based them on someone?"
Her smile doesn't reach her eyes. "Let's just say… they're inspired by a story that didn't get its happy ending."
Before I can ask more, her phone buzzes.
"I should go," she says, tucking it away. "But I'll be back tomorrow. There's a scene I want to watch closely."
She hesitates, then looks at me once more. "Sienna?"
"Yeah?"
"You have a beautiful way of carrying pain. Don't lose that. It's what makes your art real."
Then she's gone, her silhouette dissolving into the hallway light.
That night, as I scroll through social media, the world is once again obsessed.
Clips of our first take. Fans analyzing Axel's ad-libbed line. Edits, tweets, theories.
#NoraAndCalen trending.
#SiennaAndAxel trending.
#LyraVale — also trending.
Ember sends me a screenshot:
"Who is Lyra Vale? The reclusive author behind The Last Page finally appears — and fans can't get enough of her ethereal look and mysterious aura."
I stare at the photo attached — Lyra smiling faintly under the golden set lights, her mismatched eyes gleaming like secrets.
Somehow, I already know — she's more than just an author.
She's part of the story.
Maybe the one that connects us all.