Chapter 4
When I got back to the studio, I still felt this tightness in my chest.]
I picked up my phone but realized I had no one to talk to.
All these years of non–stop work had me running faster and faster down this path, going further and further, until besides Dylan and my colleagues who’d been along for the ride, I didn’t have a single friend I could really open up to.[]
So what’s the cost of growing up?]
And what does success even mean?]
Suddenly a message popped up: [I’m getting married! You and Dylan absolutely have to come!]]]
I
I was a mutual friend from back in the day.
[Congratulations!]
JOMG so exciting! When are you and the big star gonna tie the knot?]]
My fingers hovering over the keyboard trembled slightly: [We already broke up.]]]
Only when I said it out did it feel real.]
In the past when we’d fight and break up, we always had this unspoken agreement to keep things between us, because we didn’t want to burn all our bridges.[]
And there was always room to turn things around.[]
Like when he’d ask me to go see a movie I’d been wanting to watch, then grab my hand tight on some empty street corner and tell me he hadn’t forgotten what I liked.[]
Or when he’d arrange a week–long trip to Europe for me, just the two of us, no work interruptions whatsoever.
As long as he was willing to make up, I could always forgive him.[]
The chat box kept showing [typing…)
I texted first: [You don’t believe me?]
This one came back fast.[]
[It’s just hard to believe, Emma. You two were so good together back then.]]]
[Is there some scandal or something?]]]
[You can’t trust online gossip! I get dragged through the mud constantly–at least three times a week–and it’s all fake!]]
I let out a soft laugh]
I work in this industry–of course I know better.]
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Chapter 4
The phone screen went dark, but that line “you two were so good together back then” stuck like a tiny splinter under my fingertip.
Not fatal, but a constant, nagging ache.[]
Yeah, we were so good back then.[]
So good that all the bystanders, including me right now, had this illusion that we were “meant to last forever.”
The winter I was eighteen was bone–chilling damp and cold.
I was bundled up in a puffy down jacket, stomping my feet and breathing out white puffs of air.[]
Next to me stood a thin guy in just a flimsy jacket, lips white from cold, knuckles red, but still quietly running through his lines over and over, eyes bright with focus.[]
“Hey, want some hot water?“]
I held out my thermos, purely out of pity.[]
He looked stunned.[]
When he took the cup, his ice–cold fingertips brushed across the back of my hand.[]
“Thanks.” His voice was clear, with just a hint of nervousness you could barely catch.]
That was Dylan.]
The gears of fate probably started turning from that one cup of hot water, slow but steady, clicking into place.
We got into the same college, same acting program.[]
He was incredibly gifted–what the teachers called “blessed by the gods“-but his family was just ordinary, even struggling financially.[]
I was more drawn to working behind the scenes.]
The first spark started in the rehearsal room with lights that never went out.]
When he couldn’t tap into the right emotion, I’d sit in the audience, going over the character’s backstory with him again and again, analyzing subtext, running scenes together.
He was brilliant, picked things up instantly.[]
When he finally had his breakthrough moment, exploding on stage, sweat had soaked through his costume and his eyes were blazing.
He rushed off stage and grabbed me in a bear hug right there in the empty hallway.
That hug, with all that teenage boy sweat and pure joy, almost burned my skin.[]
Back then, Dylan was like a raw diamond in the rough.[]
He needed me–needed my eyes to help him see his characters clearly, needed my analysis to help him connect the dots, needed me sitting in the audience as his first and most loyal fan.[]
He said, “Emma, if I ever really make it as an actor, half the credit goes to you.“[]
Chapter 4
And I just smiled and tucked that away in my heart.[]
1 knew this was just the beginning.[]
Graduation equals unemployment–that’s the reality for most acting majors.
Dylan was no exception.[]
We rented a tiny partitioned room, barely a hundred square feet, stifling like a sauna in summer and seeping cold through the walls in winter.]
He was like every other nobody without connections–running around to casting calls, dropping off head–shots, playing wordless extras, or bit parts with just one line like “Yes, sir!” before getting killed off.]
The frustration hit him like waves, drowning him over and over.
And me–I used my clumsy Photoshop skills to make his resume, touching up his few decent headshots to make him look more polished; lurked in all the film forums and casting groups like a bloodhound, sniffing out even the slightest opportunity for him; after each rejection, I’d drag him to the riverside to clear his head, telling him, “Don’t rush it. Talent always shines through eventually. I believe in you.”
We had each other’s backs, inseparable.]
Later, he really did start to “shine,” bit by bit.[]
We moved out of that dark partitioned room and rented what became our memory–filled studio.
After the initial excitement came an even busier journey.[]
I became his shadow agent, personal assistant, image consultant, therapist rolled into one.[]
I filtered scripts for him, analyzed the pros and cons of different roles, managed his social media, handled press interviews, and when he had breakdowns, I was his only outlet and safe harbor.[]
When everything finally fell into place, he was recognized by the mainstream.[]
On the awards stage, spotlights hit his handsome face as he thanked the director, the cast and crew, the fans, and finally, his gaze cut through the crowd and landed precisely on me, with undisguised tenderness and dependence.[]
He didn’t say anything, but I was already tearing up.[]
In that moment, overwhelming satisfaction and exhaustion hit me at the same time.]
I felt like a craftsman who’d poured everything into a piece of work and finally gotten to show it to the world–all the struggle had been worth it.
I never tried to take credit for Dylan’s success.
Because I thought we understood each other.
Because he’d filled my youth just as much, was the vessel for my ambitions and dreams.]
We were partners, lovers, and family.
That’s exactly why his misguided sense of fairness and the bias he couldn’t even see in himself felt like betrayal to me.[]
My phone screen lit up again.
Chapter 4
It was a long voice message from that friend.[]
I played it, and her urgent voice echoed in the quiet room: “Emma, I just asked Dylan about it, and he didn’t mention any problems between you two at all. Are you sure you’re not misunderstanding something?”
“That new assistant?“]]
“Come on, how could some nobody like that shake up ten years between you guys? We’ve all seen how good Dylan is to you! Is there some misunderstanding? Don’t do anything rash…“[]
Misunderstanding?
Was it really a misunderstanding?]
I’m afraid this “misunderstanding” was the daily wear and tear, the collapse after boundaries were tested over and over, the boy who once held me tight in the darkness finally getting used to the spotlight, enjoying having another person around who looked up to him.[]
Ten years flashed by like film reel rewinding in fast–forward through my mind.[]
All those sweet moments, the struggles, the times we fought together–they all froze on that final frame in the police station, him standing in front of Susan, frowning as he said, “That studio is under my name.“]
I took a deep breath and tapped on the screen.[]
[No misunderstanding. Ten years is long enough to see someone clearly, and long enough to… let yourself go.]]
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