The morning light slipped through the curtains in soft streaks. Saphirra was already moving quietly around the apartment, her hair tied back, focus sharp as she folded his blazer over the back of a chair and slipped neatly packed papers into his leather bag. On the kitchen counter, a small lunch box sat waiting—rice, vegetables, and the marinated chicken she knew he liked best on long shoots.
Travier, meanwhile, dragged himself out of bed with a groan. The late nights and restless thoughts had left him sluggish, and he lingered under the hot spray of the shower longer than he meant to. By the time he stepped out, hair damp and clinging to his forehead, he could hear the faint clink of dishes in the kitchen.
He dressed in the attire Saphirra had set out—a crisp shirt, pressed slacks, and the blazer that gave him just the right balance between effortless charm and professionalism. He buttoned his cuffs, glancing toward the dining table where she was setting out two plates.
"What's for breakfast?" he asked, rolling his shoulders to shake off the last of his sleepiness. "And... you packed the important stuff, right? Documents, ID—can't afford to get turned away at the gate."
Saphirra looked up from the table, her smile soft but efficient. "Eggs, toast, and some fruit. Nothing heavy—you'll need the energy but not the sluggishness. And yes, your ID and documents are already inside your bag. Check if you like, but I made sure."
Travier exhaled a small laugh, part relief, part admiration. "You think of everything," he said, moving to sit down at the table. "Sometimes I don't know what I'd do without you."
Saphirra brushed off the compliment with a little shrug, pouring him a glass of water. "Just focus on doing well today. Let me handle the rest."
He nodded, stabbing a piece of fruit with his fork. The routine felt almost too perfect, too steady. And yet, as he chewed, that same heaviness from the night before sat in his chest—an unspoken truth he couldn't bring himself to share.
It didn't take long before Travier cleared his plate. He pushed the chair back, grabbed his bag, and checked the inside where Saphirra had tucked the documents and his ID. Everything was in place, of course. She always made sure of it.
"Thanks," he said, leaning down to hug her. It was brief but warm, her small frame pressed against him for a moment before he pulled away. "I'll be home late."
Saphirra smiled, her hands lingering on his arm before letting go. "Good luck, Trav. Do your best."
He nodded and left, the door clicking softly behind him.
_______________________
Outside, a sleek black car waited by the curb. Ms. Travez, his manager, sat in the backseat with a folder open across her lap, her glasses perched low on her nose. She didn't look up until he slid in beside her.
"Morning," she said briskly, closing the folder. "Before we get there, I need you to keep your head straight, Travier. This project is big. Don't let it be personal... distractions get in the way."
Travier leaned back against the seat, already bristling. "Distractions," he muttered, his jaw tightening. "That's easy for you to say when you're not the one standing there. Do you have any idea what it's like? Those scenes are—" He cut himself off, his fists tightening in his lap. "They're unbearable."
Ms. Travez arched her brow, unimpressed. "Professionalism means doing what's required, no matter how you feel. If you can't handle sharing the screen with her, then you're not ready for this level of work."
His teeth ground together, the sound of his breath sharp in his chest. "Don't talk like I'm some rookie. I can handle it," he snapped, though the flicker of doubt in his eyes betrayed him.
"Then prove it," Ms. Travez replied coolly, her voice firm but even. She slipped the folder into her bag and folded her hands in her lap. "When the cameras roll, no one cares about your mark, or hers, or whatever you think you feel. They only care about the story."
Travier turned his face to the window, staring out at the blur of the city as the car sped on. He said nothing more, but his chest burned—anger, frustration, and that relentless ache he couldn't name.
The car slowed to a stop in front of the tall glass building, its mirrored panels catching the morning sun. Travier adjusted his blazer as he stepped out, Ms. Travez close behind. The lobby was alive with quiet chatter—assistants moving briskly, crew members carrying equipment, the air humming with anticipation.
Director Yelric greeted them at the entrance, his grin broad and enthusiastic. "Ah, Travier, Ms. Travez! Right on time." He clapped a hand on Travier's shoulder as though they were old friends. "Come, come. Let's discuss the flow of things before we start."
They followed him into his office, a spacious room lined with posters of past productions. Yelric motioned for them to sit, flipping open a script on his desk.
"So," the director began, his voice brimming with excitement, "this film will lean heavily on chemistry. The male lead—your role, Travier—is a man torn between duty and desire. He meets a woman, our female lead, who challenges everything he thought he knew about love and loyalty."
Travier's jaw ticked at the word love.
Yelric didn't notice. He tapped the pages of the script, his eyes glowing with passion. "We'll start with lighter scenes to warm up, then gradually build to the more... emotional sequences. By the time we reach the climax, the audience should be completely invested in your connection."
Travier forced a polite nod, though his stomach twisted.
After more back-and-forth about scheduling, props, and locations, Yelric rose from his chair. "Enough talk. Let me show you around. You'll feel the spirit of the place."
They left the office, the director leading them down polished hallways and into a large studio where crews adjusted lighting rigs and cameras. Painted backdrops lined one wall, while on the other, a half-built set stood waiting to be transformed into a living, breathing world.
Vanessa was already there, dressed in casual rehearsal clothes, her makeup minimal but her presence radiant. She looked up as soon as Travier walked in, her lips curving into a shy smile.
Her eyes lingered on him longer than they should have. When she thought no one noticed, her gaze drifted toward the faint mark on his cheek—the same as hers. Each time their eyes almost met, she looked away with a soft laugh, pretending innocence.
Travier's chest tightened, not with flattery, but irritation. He shoved his hands into his pockets, deliberately placing himself on the far side of the room whenever she drew closer. He kept his focus fixed on the equipment, on the sets, anywhere but on her.
Yet, no matter how far he stepped away, he could feel her gaze brushing against him like a shadow he couldn't shake.
"Perfect energy!" Yelric boomed, completely oblivious to the tension crackling in the room. "This—this will make the story leap off the screen!" Yelric said when he finally noticed the backdrop for the first scene
Travier grit his teeth, wishing the director's words didn't sting as much as they did. He knows that he should be happy and excited, that he shouldn't waste Saphirra's support and just go with the flow; all he needs to do is to act, pretend to be another person. But he can't when he was facing Vanessa, he's afraid that he might do something he might regret if he lets his control slip.
Inside the rehearsal room, the walls echoed faintly with the sound of scripts flipping. A camera was set up at the corner, not recording but pointed toward them for blocking purposes. Travier sat stiffly in a chair, the script in his hands already creased at the edges from how tightly he held it. Across from him, Vanessa leaned forward, her voice smooth and deliberate as she recited her lines, her gaze never leaving his face.
"I thought this is the is," she read, soft but steady, her tone carrying a hint of something too close to real. "The time when I will finally feel true love"
Travier swallowed hard, forcing his jaw to unclench and turning his head to the other side before refocusing on his script paper, trying to ignore Vanessa whenever she tried to make Travier hear her.
Vanessa let out a heavy sigh when she noticed Travier ignoring her. "You know, you can't keep ignoring me, right?" Vanessa said, which makes Travier clench her jaw in anger.
That's right, whatever he does, he will always see her face starting today. He can't keep avoiding her, or else it might cause an issue or damage his reputation. Travier can't believe that he feels like he's being a puppet instead of being an actor.
________________________
Outside the room, silence stretched between Director Yelric and Ms. Travez as they watched through the small glass window in the door. Vanessa's voice drifted faintly into the hall, but Travier's tone was what caught Yelric's ear—tight, guarded, stubborn.
Finally, Yelric broke the quiet. "Tell me something, Ms. Travez," he said, lowering his voice. "Why does he seem... off with her? They have the same mark, don't they? Fate couldn't make it clearer. Shouldn't they be—"
"Stop."
The sharpness of Ms. Travez's voice cut him off. Her jaw was tight, her eyes hard as she turned to him. "That is none of your business, Director. Marks or no marks, whatever is happening between Travier and Vanessa is not something you need to poke your nose into."
Yelric blinked, surprised by her sudden edge. "I only meant—"
"You meant to stir trouble," she snapped, adjusting the strap of her bag. "If you want this film to succeed, focus on the production, not his personal life. Travier will deliver what you hired him for. That's all you need to worry about."
Before he could respond, Ms. Travez spun on her heel and strode down the hallway, her heels striking the floor in sharp, clipped beats. Yelric remained standing there, frowning slightly, the echo of her words lingering heavier than he expected.
Inside the room, Vanessa laughed softly at something Travier muttered, her voice lilting with ease, while Travier's shoulders stayed rigid, as though bracing himself for a storm only he could feel.
"What's so funny? Stop laughing" (Travier)
"HAHA I'm sorry! It's just that you look like a child throwing a tantrum" (Vanessa)
Director Yelric stood in the hallway for a moment longer, watching the two actors and actresses teasing and annoying each other. Their sudden shift in attitude toward each other is unexplainable. Earlier, they seemed to be in a bad condition, but now, they seem to be laughing with each other. Mr. Yelric couldn't wish for anything but to see those two getting along before they start shooting.
Director Yelric can still remember Ms. Travez's sharp words still ringing in his ears. Something about her reaction had been too forceful, too defensive. But he knew better than to press further—some doors were better left unopened.
With a sigh, he decided to approach the staff first so they could finally start the rehearsal. Travier and Vanessa noticed the director and decided to cut their teasing and start to focus back on their script.
Vanessa and Travier stood far apart—Vanessa by the window with her script open, Travier near the table flipping through his copy with a stiff jaw. The space between them was so obvious that Yelric could almost feel the invisible line they refused to cross. Director Yelric feels like he is solving a mystery between these two soulmates. Earlier, they were teasing and annoying each other, but now, they start pretending to be strangers again.
Director Yelric just sighed heavily and decided not to press the matter for the meantime before walking toward the two to see what they were doing now.
"Hold on," Yelric said, his brows furrowing as his gaze landed on Vanessa. "Why are you starting from the middle? You should be memorizing from the beginning, the foundation scenes. If you skip ahead, your performance will feel hollow."
Vanessa startled, then gave a sheepish laugh, lifting a hand to tuck a strand of hair behind her ear. "Oh—Director, I didn't mean to. I was just... excited. I must've turned the page without noticing. My apologies." Vanessa lied, knowing that she accidentally flipped the wrong page in a hurry when Director Yelric stepped in.
Yelric studied her for a second longer before nodding, though his expression was mildly skeptical. "Excitement's fine, but discipline is what makes a professional. Start from the beginning next time."
"Yes, of course," Vanessa replied, her eyes flicking briefly toward Travier as though to gauge his reaction.
Yelric turned then, his gaze narrowing on the male lead. Travier was stumbling through his lines again, his tone flat, the rhythm broken as though he couldn't get his tongue and his thoughts to work together. His forehead creased, frustration mounting with every slip.
"Travier." Yelric's voice cut into the room. He walked over, folding his arms. "Is everything alright? You're fumbling far too much for such early practice. What's going on?"
Travier lowered the script, forcing a steady breath through his nose. His eyes avoided the director's, focusing instead on the floor. "I'm fine. Just—getting used to it. I'm a model, Director. This is my first time doing something like this. I'm still adjusting."
Yelric frowned, unconvinced, but he caught the tension in Travier's shoulders—the kind that didn't come from inexperience alone. Still, he decided not to push further, at least not yet. "Adjust quickly. This production doesn't have room for hesitation."
"Yes, sir," Travier muttered, gripping the script tighter, his knuckles whitening.
Out of the corner of his eye, Vanessa's faint smile returned, subtle but satisfied, as if his struggle only deepened her patience for what fate had already written.
Director Yelric clapped his hands together, calling the rehearsal to a pause. An assistant entered carrying two garment bags, which Yelric eagerly took.
"These are your costumes for the opening scene," he said, his energy brimming as he handed one to Vanessa first.
Her face lit up as she accepted the attire, holding the bag delicately as though it were a treasure. "It's beautiful, I can already tell," she said warmly, a subtle sparkle in her eyes as she glanced toward Travier.
The second bag hung in Yelric's outstretched hand, waiting. Travier looked at it, his stomach tightening. His fingers twitched, but he didn't reach for it right away. The simple act of taking it felt heavier than it should—like crossing a line he couldn't retreat from. If he accepted, then the rehearsals would no longer be just words on a page. It would be real.
Yelric raised a brow. "Travier?"
Before Travier could answer, the door swung open. Ms. Travez strode in, her heels clicking sharply against the floor, her presence immediately commanding the room. She didn't even pause to take in the atmosphere—her eyes went straight to Travier.
"Stop hesitating," she said, her tone cutting but steady. "You've been handed an opportunity most people can only dream of. This is what you wanted, isn't it? To be more than a model—to be a star?"
Travier's throat tightened. He didn't reply.
Ms. Travez stepped closer, her voice dropping just enough for only him to hear, though the authority never left it. "Then start deciding for yourself. Either step up and take it, or step back and lose it. But don't stand there like a child too scared to move forward."
The silence stretched for a moment, the weight of her words pressing on him harder than the script ever could. Travier exhaled, a long and heavy sigh. His jaw clenched until it ached, but finally, he reached out, took the garment bag, and gripped it tight in his hand.
"Fine," he muttered.
Without another glance at anyone, he turned on his heel and walked toward the dressing room. The air seemed to shift in his wake—thicker, heavier—as though everyone present knew he had just crossed a threshold he could never uncross.
Vanessa hugged her attire closer, her smile hidden behind lowered lashes, while Director Yelric watched with satisfaction, convinced progress was being made. Ms. Travez, however, kept her arms folded, her expression unreadable, but her strictness sharp enough to cut glass.
______________________
Rehearsal ended with applause from the crew, but for Travier, the sound rang hollow. No matter how hard he tried, his lines had felt stiff, his movements strained, his chest heavy with irritation every time Vanessa's gaze lingered too long. By the time he left the studio, the exhaustion pressed into his bones like lead.
When he arrived home, the apartment was quiet except for the faint hum of a laptop. He slipped off his shoes and stepped into the living room. There, on the couch, Saphirra sat with her knees tucked up, the glow of the screen reflecting in her eyes.
"What are you doing?" Travier asked, loosening his tie as he moved closer.
Saphirra glanced up, startled but quick to smile. "Oh... just searching."
His brows knitted. "Searching what?" He walked over, leaning down slightly to peek at the screen before she could close it. The logo of a well-known tech company filled the page.
Travier's frown deepened instantly. A scowl tugged at his lips as he straightened. "We agreed, Saphirra. You promised you wouldn't go into the tech world anymore. So why are you looking at this?"
The smile on her lips faltered, though she kept it up, fragile as glass. "It was nothing serious, Trav. Just curiosity. I wasn't—" She stopped herself, the disappointment flickering in her eyes betraying what her words tried to hide. Slowly, she closed the laptop and turned to face him fully. "I'm sorry. I won't do it again. I promise."
He looked at her for a long moment, suspicion clouding his expression. A part of him wanted to press, to ask why she'd suddenly search something about the tech world in the first place. But his mind replayed the director's sharp words, Ms. Travez's cold reminders, Vanessa's persistent glances. He didn't have the strength for another argument tonight.
Travier sighed, rubbing the back of his neck before sinking onto the couch beside her. He wrapped an arm around her waist and pulled her against him, burying his face briefly against her shoulder. "I'm tired," he muttered, his voice low, almost defeated.
Saphirra rested her hand gently on his back, her other arm draping over his shoulders. She didn't mention the laptop again, nor the disappointment still clinging to her chest. Instead, she only whispered, "Then rest. I'll stay with you."
Travier closed his eyes, clinging to her warmth, trying to drown out the chaos of the day.