At first, Ryan was confident. Too confident. The plan was simple in his head: put Kai and Alina under the same roof, and the natural rhythm of life would do the rest. It was bound to peel away their walls, right? But months passed, and Ryan saw… nothing.
Every time, Kai was the same stoic, distant, buried in his own work. He would answer Ryan's questions with one-word replies, barely looking up from whatever script or project he was handling.
And Alina… she was polite, civil even, but she wasn't melting. She wasn't softening toward Kai in the way Ryan had imagined.
Yes, she had changed. Ryan noticed it.
Her once-messy habits—the way she used to leave things lying around, scatter objects across the living room, forget where she had put her keys were gone. The house was tidier now, almost too tidy. She had picked up Kai's habits without even realizing it: the careful way he organized, the silent way he cleaned up after himself, the discipline of small routines.
Ryan thought, That's something, at least. She's getting used to him.
But "getting used to" wasn't the same as seeing him. It wasn't the same as realizing who he truly was. She doesn't even know who the man is as her roommate.
The next morning, the office carried its usual crisp silence, the kind Kai Arden always preferred. But that silence cracked the moment Ryan Bennett entered. He didn't even get the chance to sit before Kai's voice cut through the room like glass against stone.
"It was all your plan, wasn't it?"
Ryan froze mid-step, brows knitting. "But..."
"Don't." Kai's eyes lifted from the file he had been pretending to read. They were sharp, unblinking, pinning Ryan to the spot. He pushed the file aside and leaned forward, his voice low but edged with fury.
"You knew from the start. You set me up in that house, in that room. You knew who my roommate would be."
Ryan swallowed, the weight of Kai's anger pressing down on him.
"You knew it was her," Kai continued, his tone tightening. "Alina Carter. And you didn't tell me."
Ryan exhaled, tried to be calm. "Listen, I...."
"You should have told me," Kai snapped, slamming his palm lightly against the desk. "Do you have any idea what she might think? She'll think that I'm deceiving her. That I played along, hiding the truth. That I..." His jaw clenched hard. "That I'm manipulating her."
The room pulsed with Kai's restraint, his anger burning beneath control. Ryan took a tentative step forward, palms open.
"All I wanted was to help. The way she looks at you like you're the villain who ripped her words apart, it isn't true. You're not that man. I wanted her to see that. To see who you really are. That's all."
But Kai's head snapped up, a dark warning in his eyes. "You can't erase a misunderstanding between two people, Ryan." His voice was quieter now, but heavier, each word deliberate. "The hardest thing in this world is to tear suspicion out of a heart once it's rooted."
Ryan blinked, stunned at the softness in his tone so unlike Kai's usual sharp edges. Kai leaned back in his chair, gaze fixed on the ceiling as though the weight of memory pressed against it. "Don't do it again. Don't play games with her life…. There's already enough misunderstanding between us. I don't want more."
The finality in his words silenced Ryan. He had no argument left, no clever retort. Just the sting of guilt, and the realization that maybe, for once, Kai wasn't afraid of the misunderstanding itself but of losing the only chance to make it right.
One evening, Ryan dropped by unannounced, leaning against the kitchen doorframe as he watched Kai cooking. The smell of ginger and garlic drifted through the air, the sound of a pan sizzling in the background.
"Still at it, huh?" Ryan asked lightly.
Kai didn't glance at him. "Food doesn't cook itself."
Ryan smirked. "And Alina still thinks it's takeout?"
Kai's pause was telling. Just for a moment, his hand stilled on the spatula. But then he resumed, voice flat as ever. "She doesn't need to know."
Ryan's eyes narrowed. Doesn't need to know? Or you don't want her to know? He didn't push, not yet.
Later, Ryan sat with Alina in the living room, sipping coffee while she flipped through a magazine. She was distracted, her thoughts elsewhere.
"You seem quiet," he said casually.
She gave a half-smile. "Just tired. Work. You know how it is."
Ryan studied her. She didn't mention Kai once. Not the meals he cooked, not the quiet ways he took care of things, not even the fact that she had clearly started living more like him.
So she notices him… but not really, Ryan thought. Not in the way I need her to.
Weeks turned into months, and Ryan's frustration grew. He had expected sparks of conflict turning into understanding, hate slowly turning into something else. But instead, Kai and Alina moved around each other like planets in different orbits. They coexisted. They adapted. But they didn't collide. It was maddening.
Ryan found himself muttering in his office one night, running his hands through his hair. "What's it going to take, huh? What do you two need? A lightning bolt? A miracle?"
He thought of the script sitting in his drawer, untouched, waiting. Alina's story. The story that could bring Kai back to life. He clenched his fists. Not yet. Not until she sees him. Not until he sees her. But time was slipping through his fingers, and he couldn't force fate forever.
Ryan Bennett wasn't the kind of man who left things unfinished. He had built his career on persistence, on the stubborn refusal to let circumstances dictate the outcome. Yet, for the first time in years, he felt like he was losing his grip.
Kai and Alina were circling each other like shadows in the same room, neither stepping into the light. He'd tried everything subtle: living arrangements, proximity, time. Still, nothing had shifted the way he hoped.
Until that afternoon in Maya's café. Her laughter still echoed in his ears as he walked down the quiet street, coffee warming his hands.
"Ethan Vale," she had said with a sparkle in her eyes, like a teenager recalling her first crush. "Alina and I were obsessed. We never missed a show. Posters on our walls, screaming in the show, our poor parents thought we'd lost our minds."
Ethan Vale. The name rolled through Ryan's thoughts, heavy with possibility. Ethan wasn't a blockbuster name like Kai Arden, but he had something else: longevity, respect, artistry. He had been part of the heartbeat of theater for years.
Ryan Bennett had always been a man of strategies. Every choice of his was deliberate, every step calculated. The idea had seemed simple enough: if Alina wouldn't listen to Kai, perhaps she would listen to someone she admired. Someone she trusted.
And who better than Ethan Vale, her idol, her teenage hero, the man whose performances once made her heart race? It was perfect. Too perfect.
So, the next evening, Ryan found himself at the old theater where Ethan rehearsed.
The place smelled of wood, dust, and faint echoes of applause long past. Technicians adjusted the lights, murmuring in the background. But there, near the stage. Ryan found him in the wings, adjusting his jacket before rehearsal. His hair had silvered, but his posture was still regal, his presence magnetic.
"Ryan Bennett," Ethan greeted warmly, rising to shake his hand. "It's been a while."
"Too long," Ryan replied, a small smile tugging his lips. They sat together in the dim rows of the empty hall. For a moment, it almost felt like the old days, two friends catching up, the world outside irrelevant.
For some time, they both talked about their friendship, the memories, and left the warmth of the old days that had been missing for too long.
Ryan drew in a breath, ready to steer the conversation toward Alina and Kai. He had rehearsed what to say, even how to phrase it, without sounding manipulative.
For a long moment, both of them said nothing. Ethan tapped his fingers on the armrest, thoughtful, distant. Finally, he spoke, his voice softer than Ryan expected.
"You know," Ethan began, his tone quieter, "I've been thinking of hanging it up."
Ryan froze. "Hanging what up?"
Ethan gave a faint, almost nostalgic smile. "The stage. The lights. All of it. Retirement."
For a moment, Ryan simply blinked at him. Retirement? Ethan Vale retiring? The man was the soul of the theater, the last of the greats.
"You can't be serious," Ryan said finally, searching his friend's face.
"Oh, I'm serious," Ethan chuckled softly. "The stage has been my home for decades, but every story has its final act. The body doesn't hold up forever… and besides, maybe it's time I let a new generation carry the torch''
"I haven't told many," Ethan admitted. "It's… not easy. To let go of something you've given your life to."
There was a silence, filled only by the distant sound of stagehands moving props. Ryan felt the weight of it, the rawness of Ethan's quiet confession.
Ryan leaned back slowly, caught off guard. The speech he had prepared about Alina and Kai crumbled in his mind. He couldn't interrupt this. Ethan wasn't just anyone; he was a friend. A friend who was quietly confessing something deeply personal.
The conversation carried on, Ethan reminiscing about the old days, about the nights when theaters overflowed, about the rush of standing ovations. There was pride in his words, yes, but also a lingering sadness.
Ryan listened, nodded, and even offered a few quiet laughs at Ethan's stories. But inside, a part of him sagged with disappointment. He had come with a mission, but the moment wasn't right. How could he press his agenda when Ethan was speaking of endings, of laying down the very thing that defined him?
So he didn't. He left Alina unmentioned. He left Kai unmentioned.
By the end, as they parted ways outside the theater, Ryan clapped Ethan on the shoulder.
"Whatever you decide," he said sincerely, "you'll always be remembered."
Ethan smiled, eyes twinkling with something Ryan couldn't quite name. "I haven't decided on everything yet, Ryan. Some things are better said at the right time."
Ryan nodded, thinking nothing of it. He assumed Ethan meant his retirement speech, maybe a quiet announcement at the right performance. What Ryan didn't know that he couldn't possibly know was that Ethan had his own plan.
As Ethan rose to leave, he pressed theater tickets into Ryan's palm. "Come tonight and bring your friends with you''
Ryan stared down at the tickets, then back at Ethan
''I think you should see this show'' Ethan chuckled. "I've a surprise. Every star deserves its reflection. Let the world know who lit mine."
Ryan was confused about what he was saying. As he was about to question, Ethan moved from there and continued with the rehearsal.
That night, when the spotlight found him, Ethan would speak words Ryan hadn't expected at all. Words that would turn the tide for Kai Arden in ways Ryan's schemes never could. But for now, Ryan walked away in silence, carrying nothing but questions and the faint unease of a man who had planned too much, and yet perhaps not enough.h
That night, as he walked out of the theater with the tickets burning in his hand, Ryan didn't feel something as he used to feel: hope.
Hope in his schemes, hope in his plans, but this time, he had hope in fate itself.
Maybe destiny didn't need his hand after all. Maybe all he had to do was step back and let the pieces fall where they were always meant to. Ryan smiled faintly as he tucked the tickets safely into his jacket pocket. This time, he thought, I don't need to interfere. This time, fate is already writing the story.