The message came in just after lunch.
Manager - Mr. Jace
Audition set for this Friday. Romantic fantasy film — lead role. You'll kill it.
Script attached. Read through it when you can. Let me know if you want a coach.
Aster stared at the message on his phone for a long moment before tapping the attachment open.
Lead role.
He blinked, breath catching a little.
It was happening.
In his first life, it had taken three years to even be considered for a supporting character. And even then, it was always with strings attached—roles written for someone else, scraps passed down from better-connected talents. He'd fought for every second of screen time.
This time, it had only taken a week. No hustle. No backroom deals. Just a quiet message and a full script.
He flipped through the first few pages. The story followed a man who had lost everything, then found love where he least expected it. And worked hard to get his revenge.
Betrayal, tenderness, second chances. The dialogue was rich. Heavy.
It felt... too familiar.
Aster let the tablet fall gently onto his lap and leaned his head back against the couch.
The warm afternoon light filtered through the glass windows. The air was filled with the faint scent of fresh laundry and the quiet murmur of Finn playing in his room.
It was all so calm.
So different.
Back then...
His old apartment had been a cracked studio with yellowed ceilings and paper-thin walls. His mattress had no bedframe. The heater barely worked.
He used to recite lines to himself at midnight while his breath fogged in the cold.
Every audition in that first life came with humiliation. He remembered waiting in line for hours only to be told, "You're not what we're looking for."
He remembered his manager Evan—smiling in his face, whispering behind his back. Choosing a rising actress to promote instead of him. That same actress who later faked a pregnancy, roped him into marriage for the press, then disappeared with Evan and all his savings.
He'd lost everything—his career, his money, even his brother.
And yet...
Adrian had appeared then too.
Aster pressed his fingers to his temple.
He didn't understand what Adrian wanted now. Or what Adrian had wanted back then. But if he was going to repay that kindness, he had to at least try to become someone worthwhile.
Someone Adrian wouldn't regret helping.
A voice pulled him from his thoughts.
"You look like you're about to cry or declare war."
Aster blinked up.
Adrian stood a few steps away, sleeves rolled, watch glinting on his wrist. His expression was relaxed, but his eyes studied him closely.
"I got the audition," Aster muttered.
Adrian came closer, sitting down next to him on the couch. "Want to run lines?"
Aster blinked. "You're going to read with me?"
"I can read," Adrian said dryly. "Probably better than you can."
"Do you even act?"
Adrian smirked. "Didn't I have you begging last night?"
Aster groaned and smacked him lightly with a pillow. "That's not acting, that's indecent."
"I call it versatility."
Still grumbling, Aster passed him the tablet. "Fine. You're the love interest."
"Fitting."
They started from the first emotional scene—a conversation between two people who were learning to trust again.
Adrian's reading voice was low, calm, surprisingly steady. Not dramatic, but real.
And Aster...
Something clicked.
He stopped just reading the words and started feeling them.
His back straightened. His tone shifted. The lines hit harder than they should have—probably because the role felt like someone he could've been. Or someone he was.
He lost track of time.
Until finally, the scene ended, and Aster looked up.
Adrian was watching him.
"...Was it okay?" Aster asked softly.
Adrian tilted his head, thoughtful. "You were always good."
Aster blinked. "You mean...?"
Adrian handed the tablet back. "I meant what I said."
Then, as if the moment hadn't been loaded, Adrian stood and stretched, heading toward the hallway.
Aster remained on the couch, tablet in his lap.
Always good?
He didn't know what to make of that. Adrian doesn't look like someone who will watch low cost drama series. Much less remember a supporting actor with very few lines.
Later that afternoon, Finn dragged Aster to his blanket fort and declared himself "King of the Couch Kingdom." Aster bowed to him. Adrian brought apple slices, sat with them on the floor, and offered "royal tribute."
Finn accepted it graciously.
They stayed like that for a while—playing, laughing, lightness hanging in the air like sunshine.
That night, after Finn was fast asleep and the house was quiet, Aster lay on his back in bed, staring at the ceiling.
The tablet rested beside him, script open. The lines were memorized now, but he wasn't reading.
He was thinking.
About the difference between then and now. About how strange it felt to receive so much without fighting for it. How suspicious it made him feel—like he was living someone else's life. Or like he'd stepped into a dream too good to be real.
But for now...
He was still breathing.
Still trying.
And this time, Adrian was here before anything fell apart.