Y/N POV
I was just about to call him when I reached the dressing room. The door was slightly open, and I heard voices.
His voice. Her voice.
I stepped closer without making a sound.
He wasn't laughing… but he wasn't cold either.
They were talking… like they used to. Raya's hand lightly brushed his sleeve, and he didn't flinch.
I didn't hear everything, but I saw enough.
A flicker of old familiarity in her gaze. And maybe… maybe a moment of hesitation in his eyes.
Before I could step in, he left the room — straight past the door, not seeing me hiding just beside the frame.
And I—
I didn't move.
I don't even know why I hid. It wasn't like he did something wrong.
But something inside my chest just— tightened.
Like a quiet ache. Like a question I didn't want to ask.
Maybe it was fear.
Maybe it was the way her eyes lingered on him.
Or maybe it was the way I suddenly felt small in the middle of all this glamour and old history.
I took a step back.
Clutched the folder I was holding tighter.
And walked the opposite way.
Author pov
Apartment – Night
Rabin enters the apartment, tossing his script on the table, the excitement from the rehearsal still buzzing in him. He walks into the kitchen where Y/N is pouring tea, her back to him.
Rabin:
"Babe… rehearsal went great today."
She places the teacup gently on the counter. Doesn't turn around.
Y/N:
"That's good."
A pause. Too short to be silence, too long to be normal.
Rabin (smiling, stepping closer):
"You okay? You didn't even ask me how my day was…"
Y/N:
"I just did. You said it went great."
Rabin:
"Yeah but… that was kinda robotic. Are you mad at me?"
She finally turns, her face calm — too calm.
Y/N:
"No. Just tired."
He studies her face, confused, then brushes a strand of hair behind her ear.
Rabin (softly):
"Did I do something?"
She gently pulls away from his touch like it didn't even sting — like it didn't matter.
Y/N:
"I said I'm just tired."
He stares at her, a hurt flickering through his eyes.
Rabin:
"You haven't hugged me since last night… not even a kiss when I got home. You're quiet. Distant. And don't give me that 'I'm tired' excuse again — I know you, Y/N."
She looks down, her fingers tightening around the edge of the counter.
Y/N (murmurs):
"I don't know… something just feels off lately."
Rabin:
"Is it… is it because of Raya?"
*She doesn't reply.
And that silence says more than words ever could.*
Rabin (sighs):
"Y/N, there's nothing between me and her."
Y/N (quietly):
"I know. I really do… but my heart just—it's being stupid. Maybe I'm being stupid."
Rabin:
"You're not stupid for feeling. But I can't fix what you won't tell me."
He gently takes her hand, and this time, she doesn't pull away.
Rabin (softly):
"Let me in. Even if it's messy. Even if you're unsure. Just… let me be part of it."
She looks at him, eyes softening. Still unsure. But maybe, just maybe, she wants to believe him.
The room is dimly lit by the soft glow of a bedside lamp. Outside, the city hums quietly. But inside, there's silence. Not the peaceful kind — the kind that weighs heavy.
Y/N lies on the edge of the bed, her back facing Rabin. Her breaths are steady, but her mind is loud. She stares at the wall, eyes wide open.
Rabin turns off the light on his side, slipping under the blanket slowly, cautiously — as if trying not to disturb the storm that already exists between them.
For a moment, he lies on his back, eyes staring at the dark ceiling. Then he turns to her.
Rabin (softly):
"Goodnight…"
No reply. Not even a twitch.
He waits. Hopes. But nothing comes.
He lets out a slow, silent sigh, turns to his side, and faces away from her — mirroring her distance.
The room grows colder. Not from the weather. From the unsaid things hanging in the air.
Two lovers, only inches apart… yet miles away.
Their hearts beat in the same rhythm, yet not in sync.
——
THE DAY
The sun peeks through the sheer curtains, brushing soft golden light across the bedroom. Rabin blinks awake, groggy, reaching out instinctively to the other side of the bed.
It's cold. Empty.
He sits up slowly, running a hand through his tousled hair. The silence is unusual—too quiet for a morning like this.
His eyes fall on a small note left neatly on the nightstand. Folded, with his name written in her handwriting.
He picks it up and unfolds it carefully.
"Let's meet in the evening before the red carpet. I have work."
—Y/N
Rabin stares at the note, expression unreadable. There's no heart drawn this time. No smiley face.
Just… straight to the point.
He exhales through his nose.
Something's different.
She's different.
Rabin (muttering):
"Why does it feel like you're slipping away… even when you're still mine?"
He places the note down, eyes lingering on it a moment longer before getting up.
Palace Hotel Lounge – Evening before the Red Carpet
The clock ticks past 6:30 PM.
Rabin stands in the lobby of the palace hotel, dressed in an elegant black tux, its fabric sharp and custom-fit to his frame. A single silver brooch glints on his lapel — the one she gave him during their first shoot together.
He's been standing there for 20 minutes now.
Every time the entrance door opens, he looks up with hope.
But it's never her.
He checks his phone again.
Nothing.
A message pops up.
Raya:
"Are you really not going with me?"
He stares at the screen. His jaw tightens. His thumb hovers over the keyboard — but instead, he locks the phone and slips it back into his pocket.
Rabin (muttering):
"She promised…"
He looks at the entrance — expecting her to descend any minute in her dress, like they planned…But the silence says otherwise.
People begin arriving. Paparazzi lights flash outside. Other celebrities laugh and toast champagne in the lounge.
Still no sign of her.
He adjusts his cufflinks, his face unreadable, and turns toward the corridor.
His heart is heavy, but the show must go on.
Then—
Raya gracefully walks up beside him, dressed in a shimmering silver gown that matched the night's theme. Her smile is all for the cameras — her heels click confidently as she approaches him, looping her arm through his.
Raya (softly, through her teeth, smiling):
"You know they love us… just act."
Before Rabin can respond, photographers scream:
"Rabin and Raya!! Over here!! Couple pose please!!"
The crowd erupts in excitement. Fans behind the barricades cheer loudly.
Raya leans slightly into him, close enough to give the illusion of intimacy.
Rabin doesn't pull away — he just stands still, his expression unreadable, torn between duty and truth.
Suddenly, the PR manager rushes over, and a panicked look on his face.
PR Manager:
"Rabin! Where's Y/N? She was supposed to walk the red carpet as the Managing Director!"
Rabin (stiffly):
"I… I don't know. She left a note this morning. Said she'd meet me before this… but she didn't show up."
PR Manager (hurried):
"We're running late. Cameras are live. Please—just go inside. With Raya. No time to argue."
He clenches his jaw.
His eyes scan the horizon one last time…
But she's not there.
So, under the burning camera lights and the weight of the entire world watching, he walks inside with Raya — a picture-perfect illusion that slices his heart every step of the way.
As they walk in, arms linked, the lights follow them like destiny.
Raya smiles — no, radiates — as if this is the moment she's waited for her whole life.
She leans closer to Rabin, whispering low enough for only him to hear:
Raya:
"Smile a little, won't you? The world is watching. You don't want them to think I win by default, right?"
Her words are wrapped in honey, but the poison is clear.
Rabin doesn't answer.
The cameras flash again. One reporter even shouts:
"Raya, are you two finally confirming your relationship?"
Raya giggles like she's the leading lady of a fairytale.
She turns toward the media pit and blows a kiss —
Like she just announced to the world: She won.
Like the throne beside Rabin was hers all along.
But inside…
Rabin's chest is hollow.
Each step down that carpet feels heavier than the last.
And still — no sign of her.
Y/N's POV
I left him the note—
"Let's meet before the red carpet."
That was our plan. Our promise.
I spent the entire morning making sure everything was perfect. The stage, the lights, the seating, even the photo wall with every artist's name in silver thread. I wanted this night to be flawless—for him.
But just when I thought I could finally breathe, someone ran up to me in a panic.
"The presentation drive! We left it back at the agency. It's not in the setup files!"
Damn it.
Of course it had to be something important. I thought maybe… just maybe, I could handle it myself. It's just 20 minutes away. I checked the time—there was still an hour left before we were supposed to meet.
So I went. Alone.
I reached the agency building out of breath. Quiet. Dim. Empty.But when I tried to open the main office door—click
It's locked.
"What the…"
I fumbled with the emergency key, then my phone. No signal in this hallway.
I banged on the door, frustrated. Time ticking louder in my head than any clock.
I looked around, every light buzzing faintly.
Then—darkness.
The hallway lights blinked once… twice…
And then went out.
Author POV
The clock struck red carpet hour. Flashlights began flickering. The press was buzzing. Fans screamed outside the velvet ropes.
Y/N panicked. She checked her phone again. No signal.
The office door refused to budge.
"Am I going to miss everything…?"
Then—footsteps.
A flashlight beam swept through the hallway.
A security guard.
"Hey!!" she shouted, banging on the door. "Please, help me! I'm locked in!"
The man rushed over. After a few attempts, the lock finally clicked open.
She rushed out, breathless, whispering, "Thank God…"
As soon as she hit the street—
ding.
Her phone finally found signal.
Raya: *Enjoy in the office, Y/N :) *
Her breath hitched. Her fists clenched.
She did this.
She locked the door. She knew.
Without wasting a second, Y/N flagged down the first taxi and threw herself inside.
"To Palace Hotel . Please, fast!"
Rain began to drizzle against the windows as the city blurred past.
By the time she arrived, the red carpet was nearly over.
The crowd roared. Cameras flashed.
And there—under the sparkling silver banner of the 25th Jubilee—
She saw him.
Rabin.
In his black tuxedo. Calm. Smiling faintly under the lights.
Raya's arm tangled in his like a woven threat.
Her smile was loud. Loud enough to reach every lens…Y/N stood still—just steps away—hidden from the crowd, from him.
Her heart throbbed.
Not from betrayal…
But from the feeling of being too late.
She stood behind the velvet barriers, hidden behind the pillars of the venue.
Her eyes fixed on him—on them.
Rabin. The man she had waited for. The man she built a future beside.
But tonight, he stood under the spotlight beside someone else.
Raya's arm looped through his. Her head tilted toward him like she belonged there. The cameras loved it. The world cheered.
She looks at him "once again" from afar
She blinked hard, her lips trembling.
She whispered into the humid air, barely audible—
"Didn't I deserve to walk with him?"
No one heard.
No one answered.
She turned away.
He didn't see her leave.
The lights flashed behind her, but she walked into darkness—out of the glittering world that no longer felt like home.
Rain began to fall—soft at first, then heavy and cold.
Her feet quickened. The folder grew heavier in her hand.
She wanted to cry, but she couldn't tell if the drops on her cheeks were tears…
or just the sky grieving with her.
No umbrella. No coat. No hand to hold.
Just Y/N—walking away in the rain, in a dress that now clung to her like her broken hope.