Lena adjusted the mic clipped to her blouse, smoothing down her navy dress with a shaky breath. Love Unseen was not exactly her dream gig, but after months of ghosting her own reflection and pretending she was fine, she needed something—anything—to pull her out of the wreckage of her last relationship.
Dating on camera? Sure.
Falling in love again? Probably. Or probably not.
But maybe pretending she was ready would eventually make her feel ready. That was the hope.
She needed to be seen again. Exposed in a way that felt in control, not pitiful. She needed to prove that a guy like him had never been a loss to her. That she wasn't the girl who still checked old photos or reread arguments in her head like some pathetic editor trying to revise a breakup that would never change.
And now, here she was—joining a televised dating experiment where strangers fumbled through compatibility challenges in the hope of finding lasting connections. It was all carefully curated for entertainment, of course, but maybe—just maybe—true love could exist within the chaos. Lena had watched previous seasons of the show. Some couples had made it work, both on and off camera. So for her, this wasn't just about being on TV. This was a chance. A real one. And she was willing to try.
This was her comeback. Her quiet revenge.
Why would she bother with Jason?
Who was Jason?
Her ex.
Her mistake.
The guy who disappeared from her life and left a silence louder than their loudest fights.
She had no idea what he was up to now—and she liked it that way. She'd blocked him on every app the day she realized the truth. No closure. No explanation. Just a bitter, aching vacuum where their love used to be. And she'd been drowning in it.
Her friends tried to help. They gave her numbers. Arranged brunches with "amazing guys." And her best friend Ava submitted her name to the show during a late-night wine binge.
"Do it for you," her best friend Ava had insisted. "Make a splash. Remind yourself what power feels like."
So she said yes. Half for Ava. Half for herself. A thin sliver of her still wanted to believe in something. Even if it wasn't love.
And now, here she was.
Lena stepped into the studio, smile rehearsed, spine tall. The set glowed with soft pastels and golden lights, couches arranged in a perfect semicircle like a modern-day coliseum. Nine contestants were already seated, laughing and chatting awkwardly as cameras circled them like curious bees, picking up every nervous fidget and tentative glance.
Her stilettos clicked against the polished floor. She could already feel eyes on her—viewers, producers, strangers waiting to form opinions.
She told herself she was fine. Just another girl stepping into the spotlight.
Then she saw him.
Her heart sank so hard it nearly took her lungs with it.
Jason.
What is he doing here?
There was no mistaking him. The same tousled dark hair now trimmed cleaner around the ears. The same strong jaw, the same casual way he leaned back slightly like the room naturally bent toward him. And those eyes—quiet, unreadable, dangerous.
Jason.
No. No. No.
He was here. Here. On the show. On the stage. She was not ready.
After everything.
Panic jolted through her like ice water, numbing her arms and buzzing in her ears. Her first instinct was to turn and bolt. Just turn around and leave before anyone noticed.
But she couldn't.
The camera swung toward her, the red-light blinking. The host was speaking. Music flared softly in the background. Every moment was being captured. There was no time for panic.
Smile.
She smiled.
It felt stiff. Hollow. But she made it stretch across her face like everything was okay.
"Lena!" the host beamed, clapping as she approached. "Our final participant! We're so excited to have you. Take a seat and we'll get started."
Applause. Friendly faces. Clapping contestants. All of them oblivious to the war erupting behind her eyes.
She blinked, scanned the semicircle.
Only one seat left.
Right next to Jason.
Of course it was.
Her heels betrayed her by not hesitating. She moved automatically, limbs wooden, smile frozen in place. Every step toward that seat felt like walking the plank. Her mind raced. Her chest ached.
He didn't look at her.
She didn't look at him.
But she knew he felt her presence. The way his shoulders tensed just slightly. The way his gaze dropped for the briefest second. They were close enough that her perfume must have reached him. It was new—he wouldn't recognize it. But she wondered if he noticed anyway. If the scent of her felt like anything at all to him now.
The space between them was narrow, barely a hand's width. But it felt like a chasm. A wall of memories. Of anger. Regret. And silence. So much silence.
She could still hear it sometimes. The last silence. The one that came after she said, "Let's break up."
The one where he did not stop her.
Not a word. Not a question. Just... nothing.
The host launched into the introduction. A vibrant, charming speech about "taking risks" and "opening hearts." It sounded bright and hopeful. Lena, however, felt like she was sinking into a chair made of glass.
She smiled when the camera hovered. Laughed on cue. Introduced herself with practiced charm.
"I'm Lena. I work as an auditor. And I'm here to find someone I can actually connect with."
She didn't glance at Jason. Not even a flicker.
Jason, when it was his turn, spoke with the same calm voice she remembered. That familiar detachment. The way he kept everything tightly sealed behind a layer of composure, like even his words wore armor.
"I'm Jason. I run a clothing shop. I guess I'm here to see what happens."
He gave a small shrug and a half-smile, the kind that said he wasn't entirely sure how he ended up on a dating show, but he wasn't backing out either.
I guess?
The words hit her like cold air. So nonchalant. Like he hadn't once called her his future. Like he hadn't whispered, "You're the only person who makes sense," during a thunderstorm as they lay tangled together.
She kept smiling. She even nodded politely to the camera and turned to the guy on her other side as if she weren't sitting next to a wound.
The ice between them didn't melt. It solidified.
This wasn't just coincidence. This was fate—twisting the knife with a cruel smile. Putting her next to the one person she thought she'd never have to see again.
They didn't speak.
Didn't greet.
Didn't whisper a single, what are you doing here?
But both knew.
And both pretended…
Strangers.