Chapter 23 #2
Because I don’t feel real. I feel like a paper doll—dressed up, painted on, posed for the world.
And somewhere deep down, a quiet, cruel voice whispers, This is what he wants. The costume. The mask.
Still, when he offers his arm, I loop mine through it because there’s no backing out now.
My fingers twist the hem of my dress while Jake stares straight ahead.
The silence in the car is suffocating. I know he’s nervous, too, but for different reasons.
Still, he doesn’t let go of my hand. His thumb traces slow, soothing circles over my skin like it’s instinct.
Like he knows I’m barely holding it together.
And then, all too soon, we’re there.
Lights. Cameras. Screaming fans packed behind barricades. Flash after flash turns night into day, the air electric with noise.
Jake turns to me, his expression softening. “Ready?”
No. Not even close, but I nod anyway.
He presses a kiss to the back of my hand, then steps out. The crowd erupts. The flashes blind.
He turns, reaching for me, and I force my feet to move. The second my heel hits the ground, it begins—the shouting, the cameras, the chaos.
Jake slips effortlessly into the role, flashing that devastating smile, waving like he was born for this. A natural.
And me? I cling to his hand like a lifeline, my ribs crushed by the corset, the heels already biting deep into my feet.
Each step feels heavier than the last. But there’s no stopping now.
“Smile, Fangirl,” Jake whispers, pressing a kiss to my temple. “You’re doing perfect.”
I wonder if he even sees me or just the girl Mariana built.
The flashes blind me. I force a smile, something stiff and unnatural as photographers yell his name, voices sharp and demanding. Who’s she? Jake, look this way! Who’s the girl?
He keeps me close, his hand never leaving my waist. We pose, we smile, and every so often, he leans down to whisper sweet nonsense that almost—almost—makes me forget the fire climbing my legs.
Until finally, mercifully, the red carpet ends. The second the doors close behind us, the world falls blessedly dark and quiet.
“You okay?” he murmurs, his lips brushing my ear.
I nod, lying through my teeth. “Yeah. Fine.”
But I’m not.
I’m flustered and in pain, suffocating in a dress and shoes designed for anything but a chronically ill body. Stupid, really. I was the one too delusional to refuse the shoes they called So Kate Ten. Ten, I now realize, must stand for the number of hours of agony they’re guaranteed to cause.
The movie is a blur. Faces I half recognize flash across the screen. Jake’s friends, his world. The audience laughs, gasps, and cheers.
And me? I just sit there, counting every second, feeling the steady burn climbing my spine, an ache blooming deep in my muscles. Every breath is tighter than the last.
By the time we make it to the after-party, I’m running on fumes, held together by sheer willpower, pride, and love for the man by my side.
All I want is to get home. Rip off this dress. Crawl into sweats. Grab a tub of ice cream he would never share due to the sugar content. Take my painkillers.
Lose myself in some K-drama where the girl always gets the guy, the ending is always perfect, and no one ever has to limp their way through the night, pretending it doesn’t hurt.
The party is loud and glittering—celebrities everywhere and champagne flowing. Jake beams when people greet him, his arm never straying from my waist like he knows I’m barely holding it together.
“You sure you’re okay?” he asks again, concern flickering in his eyes.
“I’m fine,” I lie. What else can I say? There’s no room for honesty here, not when cameras flash and people hover, waiting for cracks to show.
But deep down, the truth gnaws at me.
This is just the beginning, and I’m already breaking.
What happens in a few months? If I’m breaking after one night… what chance do we have?
I glance at him, so effortlessly in his element, and something twists in my chest. Part of me pities him, tied to me, the weak link in his shining world.
He greets people, smiles easily, and laughs at jokes that aren’t funny. And everyone smiles back politely, like they see right through me. Like I’m temporary, a placeholder.
And Jake? He slides into it like it’s second nature. That easy charm. That perfect Hollywood grin. I watch him tip his head back and laugh at some producer’s terrible joke, the sound smooth, practiced… performative.
And for the first time, it hits me hard. How much of this is real? Is this him? The untouchable Jake Hollander. The movie star. And somewhere, Mariana’s voice slithers back: You don’t belong in his world, darling. But at least tonight, you’ll look like you do.
Standing here, surrounded by strangers and cameras, I’m staring at someone I don’t know. And maybe… maybe I never really did. The difference is too stark.
“Jake!” The sound cuts through the noise—warm and human. A man steps out from the crowd, older, a little worn by the industry, but there’s kindness in his eyes, something real that feels like a lifeline in this sea of plastic smiles.
“Jesus, kid. They said you were here. Wasn’t sure I’d catch you.”
Jake stiffens, his hand tightening against my back. “Alan. Shit, man… hey.”
Alan grins, easy and genuine, the first real thing all night. “Didn’t think I’d see you. Honestly, wasn’t sure you’d show your face after bailing.”
He glances my way, offering a wink that pulls an actual smile from me—for the first time tonight.
Jake forces a laugh. “Yeah… about Everything That Follows—”
Alan waves him off, though the sting is still there. “I get it. Big leagues came calling.”
His gaze softens when it lands on me. “You must be Amy, the girlfriend. Jake mentioned you… said you loved Everything That Follows.” He grins. “Maybe next time, huh?”
I blink, stunned. They talked about me?
I glance at Jake, but his jaw is tight, and his eyes are locked somewhere over Alan’s shoulder.
Alan claps him on the arm, the gesture familiar, almost fatherly. “I was just surprised, is all. You’re better than capes and spandex, you know?”
Jake exhales hard, scrubbing a hand through his perfect hair. “I wanted to do it, Alan. I did. But… something came up. A once-in-a-lifetime thing.”
Alan nods, resigned. “Yeah. That’s how they get you.” He shoots me one last soft smile. “Anyway—door’s open if you ever want to do something real again.”
And just like that, he’s gone, leaving the air heavy. Leaving me standing there… wondering when the dream started feeling like a loss.
The air turns thick, too thick. I swallow hard, forcing down the lump rising in my throat.
I turn to Jake, searching his face, but he won’t meet my eyes.
“I thought you wanted to do Everything That Follows,” I whisper. That movie had heart. That story mattered. He’d shared the script with me once, after clearing it with Alan, and I’d cried. It stayed with me. Changed me.
His jaw tics. “I did. I swear I did. But… this other role came up. It’s the kind of offer you can’t turn down, Amy.” Finally, his gaze finds mine. “It changes everything. I can’t tell you everything yet, but I will. I promise. But this role? It’ll skyrocket my career to the very top.”
I nod because what else can I do? But something fractures deep inside.
No matter how he explains it, no matter how many words he finds, I know I’ll never really understand.
What’s wrong with where he is now? How high does he need to climb?
The house is massive. The car—luxury. The clothes—designer. The life—more than most people will ever see.
And yet… it’s not enough. Maybe it never will be.
And somewhere deep down, a quiet, devastating truth settles in my chest.
Maybe I won’t be enough either.
The thought spirals, tightening in my chest until I can’t breathe. I need air. A break. Anything.
“I need the bathroom,” I murmur, forcing a small smile. “Be right back.”
Jake straightens. “I’ll come with—”
I shake my head quickly. “No. I’m good. Just… give me a minute.”
Reluctantly, he nods. “Okay. Don’t disappear on me, alright?”
I slip away, weaving through the crowd until I find the restroom. Thank God it’s one of those ridiculous luxury ones with velvet pink sofas and gilded mirrors. I collapse onto a cushion with a shaky breath and kick off my heels.
The moment my feet touch the ground, I wince. Red and raw, my toes are practically screaming, one already bleeding where the strap bit too deep.
“That looks painful.”
I glance up, startled, and a familiar face stands in front of me. Young, beautiful, the kind of woman who glows even under fluorescent lights. One of Jake’s co-stars from that action movie… the one with the explosions and the impossibly perfect people.
I force a smile. “Yeah… but it’s not so bad.”
She smiles knowingly and drops onto the sofa beside me, legs crossed effortlessly. “Louboutins on a night like this?” She lets out a soft laugh. “Rookie move. Especially if you’re not used to them.”
There’s no malice, just understanding, like she’s been right where I am. Like she sees it, the breaking, and knows exactly how it ends.
“We all think we can survive this… at first.” She shrugs. “Some of us do.”
I huff a shaky laugh as my cheeks flush. “Ah, is it that obvious?”
She grins. “A little.” Then she digs into her tiny designer bag and pulls out a pair of foldable flats. “Here. Seriously. Take them. You’ll thank me.”
“Oh no, I couldn’t—”
She waves me off. “Trust me. I’ve been there. I’m fine. I’ve learned, and you will too.”
Will I? Can people like me really learn this? And, more importantly, do I even want to?
By the time we leave the party, I’m quiet and numb. Jake chats easily with the driver, oblivious to the weight settling heavier on my chest with every mile we put between us and the crowd.
The house glows when we pull up, golden and perfect, like something out of a movie. Like him.