6. Dylan #2
I open my mouth to answer, to provide some concrete example that will prove I haven’t completely failed her. But nothing comes. My mind races through the past weeks, months, searching for a single moment where I put Selene first, where I sacrificed something of my own for her benefit.
I can’t find one.
“Your dream.” Selene picks up her wine again and takes a long, deliberate sip. “Your career. That’s what you said, right? That’s what all of this has been for.”
“I didn’t mean-”
“When we first got together, it was our dream.” She cuts me off, her voice conversational now, almost pleasant, which is somehow worse than the anger would be. “Do you remember that? We used to talk about what we were building together. Our production company. Our creative partnership. Our legacy.”
I remember. God, I remember everything. The late nights spent arguing about scripts. The early mornings reviewing dailies together. The feeling that we were two halves of the same creative mind, capable of achieving anything as long as we did it side by side.
“What happened to that dream, Dylan?” Selene swirls her wine, watching the liquid climb the sides of the glass. “When did it become yours instead of ours?”
“It’s still ours-”
“Is it?” Her eyes snap to mine, and the fire that used to burn there flares for a moment, the passionate intensity that made me fall in love with her in the first place.
“Because I don’t remember signing off on a project with my estranged stepsister.
I don’t remember agreeing to step back from producing so you could find a new creative partner.
I don’t remember consenting to any of this, Dylan.
It just… happened. You stopped asking. You stopped consulting.
You stopped treating me like an equal and started treating me as if I’m just a decoration. ”
“That’s not fair-”
“Fair?” The fire in her eyes flares brighter.
“You want to talk about fair? I gave up my career for you, Dylan. I stopped auditioning, stopped producing, stopped creating… because you needed support, because your projects were more important, because I believed that what we were building was worth the sacrifice.”
“I never asked you to do that-”
“You didn’t have to ask.” Her voice dangerously drops. “You just assumed. You assumed I would step back. That I would be happy playing the supportive wife. That my dreams were less important than yours, and I let you assume it because I loved you too much to fight.”
The undeniable accusation settles between us.
She’s right.
I assumed she would adjust her schedule to fit mine, be available whenever I needed support, lift me up without questioning whether I did the same for her. One assumption after another, each one a small act of erasure.
I assumed my way into destroying us.
“I’m sorry.” The words feel pathetically inadequate. “I’m so sorry, Selene. I didn’t realize-”
“That’s the problem, Dylan.” She finishes her wine and sets the glass down with a finality that makes my stomach clench. “You never realize. You’re so consumed by your vision, your dream, your career, that you’ve completely lost sight of everything else. Including me.”
“I’ll do better.” I’m begging now, and I don’t care. “Give me a chance to prove it. The Academy Awards… I’ll be right there beside you the whole night. I’ll show you that you’re still my priority.”
Selene looks at me for a long moment, her expression shifting through emotions too quickly for me to track.
Then she smiles.
It’s the most terrifying thing I’ve ever seen.
“Okay.”
The single word echoes between us, as relief and horror wade through my chest.
“Okay?” I repeat stupidly.
“Okay.” She turns back to her vanity and resumes removing her jewelry with those precise, mechanical movements. “The Academy Awards. You’ll be there. You won’t leave my side.”
“I won’t.” I stand up, uncertain whether I should approach her. “I promise.”
“I know.” She meets my eyes in the mirror, and that empty smile is still fixed on her face. “You always promise.”
She doesn’t say anything else. She finishes with her jewelry, disappears into the bathroom to remove her makeup, pulls on her silk pajamas and returns without looking at me. Then she climbs into bed, turns off her lamp, and faces the wall.
“Selene-”
“Goodnight, Dylan.”
The dismissal is gentle but absolute. I stand in the middle of our bedroom, still in my disheveled suit, and I don’t know what to do. I don’t know how to fix this. I don’t know if it can be fixed.
Eventually, I strip down to my boxers and slide into bed beside her. She doesn’t move. Doesn’t react to my presence at all. I might as well be sleeping next to a stranger.
I lie there in the darkness, listening to her breathe, and I think about promises. All the promises I’ve made and broken. All the ways I’ve failed the woman I love without even noticing I was failing her.
Her father’s voice echoes in my mind again. It seems prophetic.
“You’re not in her league, boy. You never will be.”
Maybe he was right all along. Maybe I’ve been so busy trying to prove him wrong that I forgot what actually mattered. It’s not the career, not the accolades, nor the validation of a man who never respected me anyway.
Just Selene. Just us with the life we were supposed to build together.
I reach out to touch her shoulder, but for a second… I stop. Some instinct that says she doesn’t want my comfort right now. That my touch would be unwelcome, maybe even unbearable.
So I pull my hand back and stare at the ceiling instead, and I lie awake until dawn wondering if I’ve already lost her.
***
Selene
He eventually falls asleep.