He exhaled slowly, his voice lower than usual. "Maya… it wasn't for you."
The smile faltered on her face. A tiny crease appeared between her brows, confusion replacing amusement.
That was the truth, the raw and complicated truth. But then he glanced at her, at the way her eyes sparkled with mischief, at the genuine excitement still painted across her face after the show, and something in him shifted. "It was definitely for you," he said softly.
Maya blinked, surprised by the sudden clarity in his voice. "Wait, seriously? For me?"
Ryan gave a small nod. "Yes. For you."
And in that moment, it didn't feel like a lie. Maybe at first, when he pulled those strings for the tickets, Alina had been the reason. But watching Maya during the show, how her eyes widened in awe, how she leaned forward in her seat when Ethan stepped on stage, how she whispered little gasps at his performance, it all changed. He had found himself watching her more than the play, quietly amused at her expressions, oddly warmed by her joy.
So no, he wasn't lying now. It was for her. Even if lying can make Maya happy, Ryan could do that and tell millions of lies just to see a smile on her face.
Maya broke into a grin, her hand lightly tapping his arm. "I knew it! You pretend like you don't listen, Ryan Bennett, but you actually remember everything. Even that tiny thing I said about Ethan months ago."
Ryan chuckled under his breath, the sound deeper, more genuine this time. "You don't forget what I like."
Maya laughed, leaning back against the seat, still glowing. "Still… I don't think I've smiled that much in a long time."
Ryan glanced at her quickly, just for a second, but long enough to catch the curve of her lips, the way her face softened in contentment. And before he knew it, he was smiling too. A rare, quiet smile that came not from planning, not from scheming, but from something simpler.
Seeing her happy made him happy, and he would admit it without any doubt.
The rest of the ride carried a different kind of vibe. Maya was the only one who was talking the whole time till they reached their destination, telling him how amazing the show was, how handsome Ethan looked, how his dress was matching with the earrings, how effortlessly his handsome face looked, and Ryan was the person who would say ''Hmm'' ''Okay'' ''Yeah'' and not more than that. Because listening to your favorite person talk about someone else is the kind of feeling that you can't explain.
The hum of the car, the faint glow of the streetlights, the night air pressing cool against the windows, all of it wrapped around them like a cocoon.
Maya shifted slightly, her voice gentler now. "You know… I'll probably never forget tonight. First row, Ethan Vale. That was… perfect." She looked at him, her gaze lingering. "And you made that happen."
Ryan didn't answer right away. He simply let the words sink in, let the quiet satisfaction settle in his chest. For once, he felt himself noticeable that Maya recognized him after forty minutes of ride and for straight forty minutes listening about Ethan, she finally saw him sitting beside her listening to her endless yapping.
Finally, he spoke, his voice low but steady. "I'm glad you enjoyed it."
She smiled again, softer this time, and turned her eyes back toward the window, lost in her own thoughts.
Ryan drove on, his own heart unexpectedly light. For so long, his nights had been filled with worry, with plotting, with the constant need to fix and control things. But tonight, he had done one thing right. And it was enough. Because seeing Maya happy was enough.
The morning had been unusually peaceful for Alina. No café shift, no rushing for orders, no grumpy customers who thought extra sugar in their coffee was a war crime. She was lounging in her pajamas, scrolling lazily through her phone, when there was a knock on the door.
Alina blinked at the door. Visitors? At this hour? She wasn't expecting anyone. None of her family members or friends ever came to her house, not even her roommate brought anyone to her house. With a frown, she shuffled over, tightened her robe belt for some dignity, and cracked the door open.
On the threshold stood two men. One was in his sixties, dignified with steel-grey hair, polished shoes, and round spectacles that gave him the air of a retired professor. The other was younger, perhaps in his thirties, sharp suit, slicked hair, carrying a thick file under his arm.
Both men were peering past her shoulder into the house, scanning the living room as if expecting someone else to pop out.
"Yes? Who are you looking for?" Alina asked, one hand still gripping the door.
The older man cleared his throat. "We are… directors."
Alina froze. "D-Directors?" Her eyes widened.
The younger man shifted, clearly trying to peek past her again. Finding no one inside, he muttered under his breath, "Doesn't look like he's here."
"Eh-hem," the older man hushed him quickly, leaning close to whisper, "Maybe this is his PA. If we don't keep her occupied, she might not let us meet him."
Alina's ears perked. Occupied? She didn't catch the whole thing, but what she did hear sent her imagination sprinting.
Wait. Directors? They must have seen me at the café. Maybe they noticed my elegance while I was serving cappuccinos, the way the light hit my face, the natural glow of my skin, my… my sheer cinematic presence! Standing near the doorframe, her thoughts were endless.s
Her pulse skipped. This is it! This is how stars are discovered, right? They saw me, thought I was beautiful, and now they're here with an offer. Oh my God.
Trying to act cool and failing spectacularly, she widened the door and gave her best I'm already famous, she murmured to herself. "Oh… directors. Please, come in," she said by stretching her lips.
They exchanged a glance, then stepped inside. The older man took the sofa, placing his leather bag neatly beside him, while the younger perched stiffly, still glancing around as if the curtains might start moving on their own.
Alina, desperate to play hostess and impress them, rushed to the kitchen and returned with two glasses of water. She placed them on the table with exaggerated grace, as though serving the holy grail itself.
"So…" she said, sitting across from them, straight-backed, chin slightly tilted for her best profile. "What do you want to ask?"
The younger director leaned forward. "Not you...."
"Eh-hem!" The older man cut him off with a sharp glare. "Quiet." Then, plastering on a professional smile, he said, "Actually, we want to know when the… dates are available. We would like to start shooting immediately. As we all know, you don't like to waste time. And of course, everyone knows how hardworking you are."
Alina's jaw almost dropped. Dates? Shooting? Her heart practically somersaulted into her throat. They haven't even auditioned me! I didn't even show them my acting skills! And yet here they are, already asking about my dates like I'm some A-list actress whose calendar is packed with red-carpet premieres.
She clasped her hands, feigning composure while her brain screamed. "Indeed," she said with a grave nod. "I am… very hardworking. Always."
The younger man scribbled something in his notebook, nodding along.
Alina, meanwhile, was spiraling into full-blown fantasy mode. Red carpets. Flashing cameras. Reporters shoving mics into my face: 'Miss Alina, how do you handle such fame with such grace?' Fans screaming my name as I sign autographs… Oh my God, I can see it now!
The older director leaned forward again. "When can we meet?"
Alina blinked. "Meet… who?"
"The actor, of course."
She sat straighter, flashing a dazzling smile. "Actor?'' She was confused at first, then convinced herself that nowadays female actresses are also called actors.
The two men blinked at her in silence. As both of them saw, Alina murmured to herself. The younger one shifted uncomfortably, but before he could say anything, Alina continued, brimming with confidence.
"Yes, I understand. It's rare to find someone with both beauty and talent in one package. But you've come to the right place." She leaned back, flicking her hair dramatically. "I am ready to give my all to this project."
The older director's smile widened. He whispered again to the younger, "See, this is how you should handle…?"
''I'll note it, sir," the younger muttered back.
Alina, catching only fragments, misinterpreted instantly. They're impressed by my confidence. Yes, of course. Directors love a bold actress. I mean, actor, I must keep playing along.
She pressed her palm against her chest like she was reciting a heartfelt monologue. I didn't expect this day to come so soon. I thought maybe one day… far into the future… But fate has its plans, doesn't it?
"If you want to start immediately, then…" She paused, smiling. "… I shall make time. I'll clear the schedule."
The directors exchanged another glance, this one more desperate than amused. The older one chuckled awkwardly. "Excellent. Then, when exactly can we arrange the first reading…?"
"Right now," Alina interrupted confidently.
"…now…?"
''As you know, I don't waste time!" she said, beaming.
The old man was uttering to the young man ''See how I'll impress the PA and get the dates fixed with Mr. Arden''