LANCE'S POV:
I never thought i'd cry over a teleserye.
And yet there i was, alone in our condo, slouched against the couch, a half-empty bottle of beer sweating on the table, and my heart caught somewhere between rage and helplessness.
It was a Wednesday night. No traffic. No gunshots. No cases. Just silence. The kind that wraps around your ribs too tightly.
Aurora's episode aired at 8:30.
"Beyond the Chao." Her comeback drama.
I told her I'd watch when i had time.
But tonight, I had time. Too much, maybe.
I clicked it open on the smart TV, expecting to feel proud.
Expecting to see the woman i loved back in her element.
A woman who, just a month ago, was nearly destroyed by truth and trauma and who now stood tall on-screen like none of it had ever touched her.
And God, she was brilliant.
She always was.
Her eyes held too much emotion in silence, and her voice cracked at just the right syllable when she cried. She wasn't acting.
She was the role.
The broken girl running barefoot on the train tracks. The scene with her father. The confrontation. The monologue under the rain.
I could handle all of it.
Until that scene.
The camera pulled in close.
A rooftop. Sunset.
The music swelled.
Her co-actor looked at her like he was ready to beg.
"You still love me," he said.
"I never stopped," she whispered.
And then—
He kissed her.
Not just a peck.
It was long. Intimate.
His hand cupped her face exactly the way i did. His forehead rested against hers like i always do. She closed her eyes like she meant it.
Like it wasn't acting.
My throat burned.
I tried to remind myself that i've seen her rehearse lines with him. That she told me about this scene weeks ago. That this was work.
But it didn't matter.
I slammed the remote down.
Paused it. Rewound it. Watched it again.
And then i did the one thing i promised myself i wouldn't do.
I cried.
Silently.
Pathetically.
The way grown men aren't supposed to.
I buried my face into my hands and let it break me. Not because i didn't trust her. Not because i thought she loved him.
But because for a moment, I wasn't sure where the character ended and where my girlfriend began.
And it hurt.
I didn't hear the door open.
Didn't notice the sound of keys hitting the console.
Didn't realize she was home until her voice sliced through the darkness, soft and confused—
"Lance?"
I wiped my face, but it was useless. She saw.
She crossed the room in three steps and dropped to her knees in front of me. "Hey. Hey. What happened? Are you hurt?"
"No," I croaked. "Not, not like that."
Her eyes scanned me.
Alarmed. Concerned.
And then they flicked to the paused screen behind me, and her face changed.
"Oh," she breathed. "You watched it."
I couldn't answer.
She reached for my hand. "Lance…"
I pulled her into me.
No words. Just arms. Just breath. Just the weight of her body grounding me before i shattered completely.
"I'm sorry," she whispered.
I shook my head. "Don't apologize."
"But i can see it hurt you."
I clenched my jaw.
"It's not jealousy," I managed. "I mean— it is. But it's more than that. It's like... I know you're mine, Aurora. But seeing someone else touch you like that, even if it's fiction, even if it's scripted, it does something to me."
"I get it."
"I tried to be okay. I thought i would be. But watching it? Watching someone else kiss you like you're his entire world—?"
I trailed off.
She brushed her thumb under my eyes gently. "You're allowed to feel what you feel."
"It's stupid."
"No. It's honest."
I pulled her tighter. Pressed my forehead to her collarbone. "Can i ask you something without sounding like an asshole?"
"Always."
"Can you… can you stop doing projects with kissing scenes? I know it's your job. I know it's acting. But i'm not built for it, Au. I thought i was. But i'm not."
She didn't reply right away.
And for a second, I thought i'd crossed a line.
But then she tilted my chin up so i'd look at her.
"I've already talked to my team," she said quietly. "After this series wraps, I told them no more romance. No more scenes that put me in that position."
My eyes widened. "You did?"
She nodded. "Because i already found what i was acting for all those years. I don't need to simulate love when i'm finally living it."
God.
God, I love her.
I leaned in and kissed her, this time for real. No script. No cameras. No audience.
Just us.
The kiss didn't last long.
It didn't need to.
It was enough.
More than enough.
We stayed like that for a while. Sitting on the floor, wrapped in each other, while the city pulsed quietly beyond the glass windows.
She spoke again, voice softer now. "You know what's ironic?"
"What?"
"I cried after filming that scene."
I looked at her. "You did?"
She nodded. "I didn't tell anyone. But the moment the director said cut, I went to the restroom and cried. Not because it was gross or uncomfortable. But because it felt like a betrayal, even if it wasn't."
My chest tightened.
"I just kept thinking of you," she whispered. "Of how you looked at me when i said yes to the role. Of how you supported me even when it was hard. And I promised myself—never again."
I kissed her hair. "I don't want to be that guy who tells you what to do."
"You're not. You're just the guy who tells me how he feels. That's different."
I nodded, still holding her.
The screen behind us was still frozen on that rooftop kiss. But i didn't look anymore.
I had her here. In my arms. No edits. No angles.
Just mine.
And that was all i needed.