This year's Christmas Eve was colder than usual. The sky hung heavy with clouds, and many parts of the country were reportedly blanketed in snow. But no one here paid it much attention. This was Hollywood—while the rest of America might be buried under snow, temperatures here hovered around a mild 7 or 8 degrees Celsius (mid-40s Fahrenheit).
Actually, the weather was rather nice—especially for those celebrities wrapped in minimal-fabric designer gowns. No matter how cold it got, they still had to show up looking their absolute best. If they dared to bundle up in anything warm but bulky, the media would have them plastered all over the front pages by morning.
Sure, the average person might think, "Oh wow, even celebrities get cold," but for the stars, falling out of sync with fashion was basically a death sentence. Once the fashion world abandoned you, good luck landing brand deals or high-paying event appearances. Maintaining their high-fashion status was their top priority.
Thankfully, they weren't walking the streets bare-legged. They got from place to place in the comfort of heated luxury cars, so the chill outside didn't matter much.
Hollywood was never short on celebrities—especially around Beverly Hills. Just take a casual stroll, and you'd probably spot a handful coming and going.
And that's exactly why so many tourists dream of visiting Hollywood—who wouldn't want the chance to rub shoulders with those high-and-mighty stars?
Celebrities themselves have mixed feelings about this. They're human, after all. They have good days and bad days. Sometimes, they just want peace and privacy. So when they're suddenly mobbed by fans asking for photos and autographs, even the most patient of stars can get annoyed.
That said, being chased for autographs is still better than being ignored. Once you walk down the street and no one recognizes you, it means you've truly faded into irrelevance.
Laila was, by nature, a bit of a homebody. When she did go out with her family, it was usually to quieter places, so she rarely encountered fan mobs on the street.
Honestly, being Laila's fan could be kind of tough. She was a director, and a fairly private one at that. The chances of randomly bumping into her were low. And yet she had a massive young fanbase, all eager to collect some kind of memento from her—even just an autograph. But getting even that much was nearly impossible.
In fact, to date, no one has managed to get her autograph.
Laila felt bad about it, truly. It wasn't because she was lazy, but because her position didn't allow her to casually spread her signature around. What if it fell into the hands of someone who could forge her handwriting? What if that signature somehow ended up on an official company contract? That kind of mess could be catastrophic.
Photos, she didn't mind so much. If she happened to run into a fan, she'd usually agree to take a picture—but autographs? Better not.
This year, Laila didn't return to New York for Christmas. Instead, her family—and her brother Abel, now a professional architect—came to Hollywood to celebrate the festive season at her and Roy's home.
The reason for breaking tradition was simple: Silent Whispers was set to release during the Christmas window.
Although Laila appeared calm on the surface, anyone who knew her well could tell something was different. The closer they got to the release date, the more unusual her behavior became.
"Laila, are you nervous?" Roy finally asked, unable to hold it in any longer. God knows how much he'd held back already. Every day, she walked around like she was sleepwalking, lost in thought. He'd been to many premiere events with her, but never had he seen her so visibly unsettled.
"Nervous? Why would I be nervous?" Laila smiled, not admitting anything.
Roy picked up little Eli from her arms. "If you're not nervous, then I don't know what word to use for it. Have you even looked in a mirror? Seen your expression? Sweetheart, what are you really nervous about? Box office numbers? Back when you were fighting to break the record, you didn't even look this tense."
"I'm nervous?" Laila reached up to touch her cheek, then placed her hand over her chest. Her heartbeat did seem a little fast. "Maybe... maybe I am a little nervous."
"Why?" Roy walked over and gently pulled her into his arms. One arm held his wife, the other held their child—this was the kind of moment that made him truly feel the warmth of having a family.
"This film means a lot to me," Laila said, resting the side of her face against his chest, her arms wrapping around his waist. The gesture made her feel like she could draw warmth directly from him. "I'm worried people won't like it."
Roy didn't quite understand her anxiety. From his perspective, she had nothing to worry about. When had the audience ever rejected one of her films? Never. Every time, she delivered something that ended up being considered a classic. Each film carved out a chunk of Hollywood real estate from under the noses of the big studio moguls.
It would've been understandable if she'd been nervous during the release of Avengers—back then, the stakes were incredibly high, and success had been hard-won. But now? Silent Whispers was a project she truly loved, one she had made purely out of passion. Why was she more nervous than ever?
Of course, Roy couldn't possibly know the real reason. And Laila wasn't about to tell him.
What was she supposed to say? That this was, in a very real sense, her first true film? Was this movie meant to prove whether she was truly a real Hollywood super-director?
She believed in her abilities. In her previous projects, she had used the "cheat code" of her rebirth—choosing films she already knew would be hits. While the final versions were very different from the originals, they were still fundamentally safe bets.
So yes, those were her creations—but they came with the advantage of foresight.
But that advantage was starting to wear thin.
Her presence in this world had already begun to change the future. Thanks to the butterfly effect, films that were supposed to appear years later were already popping up ahead of schedule, brought in by new rising talents.
If she wanted to keep her company moving forward healthily, she couldn't rely on her past life's knowledge forever. That's why this film wasn't just her first original screenplay—it was also a test of her own vision and creative instincts.
If her judgment was wrong, if the film failed to resonate with audiences, the blow wouldn't just be to her ego. It would prove that she wasn't as capable as she thought—and perhaps not fit to lead a company in this cutthroat industry.
In that case, she'd have to rethink everything and find another path to ensure her company's survival.