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Soft, rhythmic music floated through the warm air of Michael's living room.
The speakers in the corners of the ceiling hummed a gentle, acoustic melody.
🎶🎶
When the world gets too heavy, put it on my back I will be your levy
You are taking me apart, like bad glue
On a get well card
🎶🎶
Michael was sitting comfortably on his large, gray sectional couch.
His phone was in his hand, and he was mindlessly scrolling through short video reels.
Emma was lying completely flat on the couch, her head resting softly on Michael's lap. Her eyes were closed, her breathing steady and quiet.
🎶🎶
It was always you falling for me
Now there's always time calling for me
I'm the light blinking at the end of the road
Blink back to let me know
🎶🎶
Out of the corner of his eye, Michael noticed something.
Emma's breathing had slightly changed rhythm. Then, a very small, incredibly subtle frown formed between her eyebrows.
She was awake, but she was squeezing her eyes shut, pretending to still be asleep.
Michael smiled to himself.
He locked his phone and placed it on the coffee table.
He leaned down over her face.He gently kissed her soft lips.
Emma didn't open her eyes, but a tiny smile tugged at the corner of her mouth.
"You are a professional actress," Michael whispered against her lips. "And you cannot even act like you are sleeping?"
Emma let out a soft giggle.
She finally opened her bright blue eyes, looking up at him upside down. She didn't make any move to get up from his lap. She just looked at him with a tender, deeply affectionate gaze.
"Is it true?" Emma asked, her voice quiet and unusually shy. "Did you really write two books just for me?"
Michael reached down and gently brushed a strand of blonde hair out of her face. "Yes. I did."
"Which ones?"
"Well, the first one was The Fault in Our Stars," Michael admitted, a slightly embarrassed smile on his face. "And the second one is my upcoming release. The Hobbit."
Emma's eyes shot up even wider.
She knew all about The Hobbit. She had read the early drafts. It was a massive, sprawling fantasy adventure. She stared up at him, her heart skipping a beat. She still couldn't believe that she, just a normal girl from the neighborhood, could inspire a genius writer to craft an entire novel.
Suddenly, Emma shifted. She sat up from the couch and swung her legs over his lap, straddling his waist. She wrapped her arms loosely around his neck, looking right into his eyes.
"You know," Emma said softly, "yesterday... you said you love me."
Michael raised an eyebrow, resting his hands lightly on her waist. "You also said you love me."
Emma looked at him, her expression turning serious. "I know I did."
Michael stayed quiet, letting her finish whatever was on her mind.
Emma took a deep breath. "But you know... I don't like when people just 'speculate' that we are dating. The magazines, the blogs, the fans... I don't want them guessing. I want them to know we are dating."
After saying that, she leaned forward, hugged him tightly, and buried her face into his warm chest.
Michael wrapped his arms around her back, chuckling softly. "So, let me get this straight. You just want all the other girls in the world to know that I am taken?"
Emma instantly pulled her head back.
She shot Michael a deadpan, chilling look that made his spine actually tremble for a second. It was the look of a woman who was not joking at all.
"Okay, okay!" Michael laughed nervously, holding his hands up in surrender. "I am kidding! But honestly, how about I post some photos of us? We have some very cute photos together. How about I finally post them on my official page?"
Emma's intimidating glare vanished instantly. Her eyes twinkled with pure excitement.
"Yes!" Emma gasped. "But you have to collaborate with me! If you use the collaborator feature, the post will show up on my main Instagram grid too!"
Emma enthusiastically reached over, snatched Michael's phone right off the coffee table, and unlocked it. She turned back to him, pressing a loud, happy kiss onto his cheek.
"That is exactly why you are so lovable and adorable," Emma praised him, shifting her weight on his lap as she opened his photo gallery. "Now, let's find the best ones."
Michael rested his chin on her shoulder, looking at the screen with her.
"Oh, look at this one!" Emma pointed. "We are standing in front of the Wells Cathedral!"
"I look good," Michael nodded. "But your eyes are half-closed."
"Delete it immediately," Emma commanded, swiping past it at lightning speed. "What about this one? We are eating ramen."
"Emma, you have noodles hanging out of your mouth in that picture," Michael pointed out dryly.
"It shows personality!" Emma argued, but she kept swiping anyway. "Oh! Stop! This is the one!"
She stopped on a beautiful photo taken in London. They were standing in front of Tower of London. Michael had his arm wrapped tightly around her waist, and Emma was looking up at him, laughing at something he had said. The lighting was perfect.
"That is a great photo," Michael agreed softly.
"We are using this as the cover," Emma said, her thumbs flying across the screen. "And I am adding the one of us on the car where you fell asleep on my shoulder."
"Do not post that," Michael groaned. "I am drooling a little bit."
"It proves you are human," Emma countered, selecting the photo. "And... the one of us at the garden full of flowers. Perfect. Three photos."
She quickly opened the Instagram app, uploaded the three photos, and typed in a caption.
She turned the screen to Michael.
The caption just read: Mine. 🤍
"Is that good?" Emma asked.
"It gets the message across," Michael laughed.
Emma hit the collaborator button, added her own handle, and then firmly pressed Share.
She locked the phone and tossed it back onto the table. She looked back at Michael, a deeply satisfied smile on her beautiful face.
"We make a very good couple, don't we?" Emma asked, wrapping her arms around his neck again.
Michael looked deeply into her blue eyes, pulling her a little closer by her waist. "We really do."
________________________________________________________________________________
Evans sat in his quiet study, completely surrounded by stacks of paper, legal pads, and half-empty cups of coffee.
He was typing furiously on his laptop.
Suddenly, his desk phone began to ring.
Evans stopped typing. He rubbed his tired eyes, picked up the receiver, and pressed it to his ear.
"Hello? Evans speaking," he said in his standard, professional tone.
"Hello, Mr. Evans," a polite voice with a slight Japanese accent spoke through the line. "My name is Kenji. I am calling on behalf of the executive board at Kyoto Animation."
Evans instantly sat up straight in his leather chair. His exhaustion vanished. "Yes, Kenji. Thank you for calling. I assume you have received the translated script and the proposal from Mr. Owen?"
"We have," Kenji replied, his voice filled with a mixture of deep respect and awe. "Our entire board has read 12 Angry Men. It is... a breathtaking piece of art, Mr. Evans. Our lead directors are already drawing concept sketches."
"Does that mean the studio is interested in the project?" Evans asked, his heart beginning to beat faster.
"It means we are accepting the project in its entirety," Kenji clarified smoothly. "We agree to Mr. Owen's terms. We accept his offer to finance fifty percent of the production, and we formally agree to his backend revenue percentage demands. The board has already drafted our counter-signatures. We wish to begin pre-production immediately."
Evans's jaw actually dropped. He stared blankly at his computer screen. "They actually agreed. The biggest, one of the most prestigious animation studio in Japan just handed Michael a blank check for a courtroom drama."
"Mr. Evans? Are you still there?" Kenji asked politely.
Evans cleared his throat, quickly regaining his professional composure. "Yes, Kenji, my apologies. That is wonderful news. Michael will be incredibly pleased. Please send the digital contracts to my secure email, and I will have them signed and returned by tomorrow morning."
"Excellent. We look forward to a very prosperous partnership. Have a good evening, Mr. Evans."
"You too, Kenji. Goodbye."
Evans slowly lowered the phone back onto the receiver. The click echoed loudly in the quiet study.
He sat there in absolute silence for a full minute. The Hollywood studios had laughed at the idea. They said it was impossible.
They said Michael was crazy for wanting backend revenue on a script.
And Michael had just bypassed the entire American film industry and secured a master-class studio in less than twenty-four hours.
A slow chuckle started in the back of Evans's throat. The chuckle turned into a loud, booming laugh that filled the entire study. He leaned back in his chair, staring up at the ceiling, shaking his head in pure disbelief.
"I should have known," Evans said aloud to the empty room, laughing at his own foolishness. "I should have never, ever underestimated Mike."