Chapter Thirty
I t’s almost three weeks before the article is released, and during that time, I focus on keeping my head down.
The media’s attention hasn’t let up - though there’s no real surprise there - but I’ve managed to push it aside, burying myself in my work and the students I care so much about. The summer programme is taking shape, and I’m proud of the progress I’m making along with the additional after-school sessions I’ve been putting on in preparation for the end-of-year exams. There’s only a few more weeks left of this academic year, and I’m determined to make the most of my time teaching.
But no matter how many positive things I try to focus on, there’s always this underlying current of tension running through me.
I try to brush it off and focus on the things that matter, and I think that I’m generally getting better at it. I’m trying to find some dry humour in it all, too -
But I’m only human, and sometimes, it gets to me.
Javier says that I’m overthinking it, that it’s only normal for people to be interested in my life. After all, I’m not just ordinary Olivia Bennett anymore - I’m the girlfriend of Santiago Ortiz, and with that comes certain expectations.
I might want to be known for being so much more than that, but as Javier says, facts are facts.
The media have hopped between being highly critical to now calling it a fairy tale romance - no doubt due to his manager’s influence, I’m sure - and people expect me to fit that image.
The problem is that I just don’t know how to be a fairy tale.
∞∞∞
The article is released on a Tuesday morning.
I sit down on the couch, already dressed in my work clothes. Javier said it would be released today, and at seven am on the dot, an alert from the local news outlet pops up on my phone.
The headline jumps out at me immediately.
Ortiz’s Girl: How Olivia Bennett Won Over Spain’s Golden Boy.
It hits me like a punch to the gut.
My heart beats faster as I click on the link, already knowing I’m not ready for what I’ll find.
For weeks I’ve been avoiding the media, avoiding the spotlight and trying to push through the noise. But the world seems to have other plans, and what Javier promised would be a good idea - no, a great idea, a perfect move - already isn’t off to the best start if that headline is anything to go by.
The article starts as I expect. It’s all pretty words, gushing about Santi and his Rugby career and painting us as the perfect couple. It’s the kind of immature, fairy-tale nonsense that people can’t help but romanticise, and my eyes roll at the ridiculous nature of it.
The article goes on to talk about Santi’s rise to fame, his charm, his golden-boy status, and how lucky I must be to have captured his attention. The tone is syrupy sweet, and the words are like honey, smooth and easy to digest.
Javier was right, though: everyone loves a love story, especially when it's wrapped in the glossy, magazine-cover image of a celebrity relationship.
It’s not the first time our relationship has been covered in the press, but this time feels different. The attention feels louder, more invasive - no doubt assisted by my own contributing interview. It’s not all speculation anymore, this is live from the horse’s mouth, the information coming directly from me and Santi’s team.
It’s my life being pried open for everyone to see, to scrutinise, and it’s the most bizarre feeling in the world.
I skim through the first few paragraphs, my fingers trembling as I try to steady my breath, pushing back the wave of nausea threatening to rise in my throat. The whole piece feels surreal. It’s as if I’m reading about someone else’s life - someone else’s story.
And then I reach the second half of the article.
Olivia Bennett, the woman who has somehow captured the heart of Spain’s rugby sensation, Santiago Ortiz, is, by all accounts, a pleasant and charming individual.
Though she may have been content in her quiet, humble life in England, far removed from the spotlight, the move to Spain has thrust her into a world she never truly bargained for. Beneath her polished exterior, she has struggled to find her place and newfound fame.
It’s clear that the overwhelming media attention that comes with dating one of the country’s most eligible bachelors has left her torn. It’s a tough balancing act, but perhaps it’s one she’ll eventually learn to manage, though it’s not clear yet how much she’s willing to embrace this new life.
My stomach drops.
Struggled to find her place…?
This isn’t what I said.
Or, if it is, then this isn’t what I meant.
How could they twist my words into something so... weak ?
It’s as if they’ve taken everything I’ve said and turned it into a narrative about a woman in crisis, and I never wanted to portray myself like that.
I try to keep reading, but the words are blurring together now. I try and calm myself, but my hands feel clammy as I swipe down the screen.
In a rare, candid moment, Olivia Bennett opens up about the pressures of living in the public eye, though it’s clear that she still struggles to accept the attention that comes with dating someone as famous as Santiago Ortiz.
“People only see me as Santi’s girlfriend,” she admits, her voice laced with frustration. “They don’t see the work I’m doing.”
While it’s understandable that she feels overshadowed by the immense popularity of her partner, one has to wonder if she’s simply trying to carve out her own identity in a world that seems so far removed from the humble life she once knew.
“I just want to be taken seriously. I’ve worked so hard to get where I am,” she continues, “and yet it feels like it’s all overshadowed by who I’m with.”
The sentiment is familiar, and one can only imagine how difficult it must be to adjust to such a shift in attention, even if her contributions to her field are far less publicised than Santiago’s stellar career .
I’m reading my own words, but they don’t feel like mine.
They feel distorted. Twisted out of context.
I didn’t speak with frustration laced in my voice. Did I?
No. I didn’t. I know that I didn’t.
And I wasn’t complaining - at least, I didn’t mean to! I was just explaining how hard it was to balance two completely different worlds, the world of teaching that I loved and the world of fame that I never asked for.
I was just trying to be honest, to be real. To explain that my work matters to me.
But that doesn’t - and shouldn’t - make me Santi’s whiney, unappreciative girlfriend.
The teacher, who has been an educator for over three years, is currently trying to make her mark in the education world.
But as Bennett herself points out, 'It’s hard to be seen for what you are when all the media cares about is who you’re dating.’
My chest tightens in the worst way at the realisation that this has all gone terribly wrong.
I try to keep reading, hoping it gets better, hoping there’s something in this article that redeems what I said; but I know from the tone of the article that it’s just not coming.
Still, the article goes on, recounting my personal struggles in a way that feels entirely fabricated.
It’s as if they’ve taken my attempt to explain and molded it into something they can sell to the public: the story of a woman who is only ever seen in relation to the man she’s with, who can’t even define herself outside of his name.
Just as I’m about to give up, my eyes fall on the next line.
Sources close to the couple confirmed that Olivia’s summer programme will be taking place at Colegio de la Paz, a small secondary school located in the heart of Valencia. The school’s involvement adds another layer of prestige to the programme, as Bennett works alongside local organisations to bring about change in the educational sector.
My stomach lurches as I read the words.
My school. They named my school.
After promising that they wouldn’t - after Javier looked me in the eye and gave me his word that my school, my colleagues, my students would be kept anonymous in all of this…
My eyes scan the sentence over and over again, hoping it will change.
As if I can somehow undo what has already been done.
The words blur before me, but they’re clear enough. It’s my school - the place where I’ve poured my heart and soul over these past few months - and now it’s part of a story I never agreed to.
My students, my work, my future… they’re all suddenly tangled up in this narrative of my relationship with Santi. A relationship that’s not just mine anymore, but now a part of the public spectacle.
I never wanted this. I never asked for any of it. The reality of my career, my purpose, my identity is being twisted into something else entirely - something I don’t recognize.
My school. My students. My calling.
They don’t belong here. They don’t deserve this.
Oh, god.
How will they see me now? I can almost feel the weight of my students’ eyes on me, their whispers turning into stares .
What will my colleagues think when they read this? When they see my life exposed in a way that’s not just about who I am, but about who I’m dating?
I never wanted any of them to be involved in this circus. The school community that I’ve worked so hard to be a part of is now part of something that I can't control.
Are they all going to hate me? Ostracise me?
What if they fire me ?
I can’t breathe. My chest tightens as my mind spins, racing with a thousand thoughts, none of which make any sense. I feel dizzy, like I’ve lost all balance when I thought I had a firm grip.
This isn’t me, I want to scream, but I don’t know who I’m even saying that to anymore.
Not to the world. Not to the press.
Certainly not to the headlines that have reduced me to something I’m not.
But here I am.
I feel a sharp, overwhelming sense of claustrophobia, as if the walls of my apartment are closing in around me, tightening with every breath I take. The air feels thick, suffocating.
This is it. This is the moment when everything changes.
When my life is no longer mine.
I want to run. I want to hide from it all, to pretend none of it is happening. But the truth is, it is happening.
And I don’t know how to stop it.