Travier sat in the farthest corner of the rehearsal hall, the script held tightly in his hand as he forced his eyes to follow each line. His lunchbox sat unopened beside him, the food untouched. The longer he stared at the words, the more they blurred, frustration crawling up his spine.
He muttered the lines under his breath, jaw tight. 'No, not like that. Again.' He started over, but the stress pressed down heavier with every failed attempt at getting the tone right.
From the corner of his vision, movement caught his eye. Vanessa. Her heels clicked softly against the floor as she approached, her smile gentle, almost disarming.
"You okay?" she asked softly, tilting her head as she crouched a little to meet his eyes.
Travier didn't answer. He kept his gaze on the script, pretending she wasn't there. If he ignored her long enough, maybe she'd just go away.
But Vanessa didn't budge. Instead, she set something beside his lunch box—a paper cup. Then another. The rich aroma of coffee drifted between them.
"I bought two," she said with a cheerful little smile. "One for me, one for you. You really shouldn't stress yourself too much, you know. If you push too hard, it'll affect your acting."
Travier's eyes flicked to the cup, then back to his script. He clenched his jaw, torn between snapping at her to leave him alone and keeping his composure. The kindness felt too sharp, too invasive—especially when he remembered the mark they shared.
Vanessa, unfazed by his silence, sat down beside him but made sure that there was a gap between them, not wanting to invade his personal space. She wrapped her hands around her own cup and took a sip, watching him carefully. "Just one break won't hurt. You'll act better if you let yourself breathe a little."
Travier let out a deep breath and slipped his lunch box inside his bag before standing up and leaving Vanessa without saying a word or even turning to look at her.
_________________
The cool breeze brushed against Travier's face as he stood at the edge of the rooftop, eyes fixed on the sky that seemed too wide, too heavy to look away from. His lungs filled with air, but it never seemed enough.
The faint creak of the rooftop door broke the silence. Footsteps followed—measured, confident. He didn't turn. He already knew.
Ms. Travez stopped beside him, leaning casually against the railing. For a while, she said nothing, just letting the quiet stretch. Then, her voice cut through the stillness.
"You should learn to speak up, Travier. Whatever's been gnawing at you, it's written all over your face."
Travier's grip is tight on the script that's still in his hand, knuckles whitening. But he didn't answer. His gaze stayed glued to the horizon, jaw set, lips pressed into a thin line.
Ms. Travez exhaled slowly, tilting her head up toward the sky as if the clouds might have answers of their own. "You think silence will solve it? It won't. It'll only eat you alive."
The words pricked at him, but still, he stayed silent.
Her voice softened, though it carried an edge of something dangerous, something persuasive. "There's nothing wrong with indulging in what you want, Travier. If you're afraid it'll break your bond with Saphirra..." She turned slightly, her eyes narrowing as she studied his profile. "...then let me help you. I can cover for you. Hide your secrets. Make sure no one finds out."
Travier's chest tightened, breath stuttering.
Ms. Travez straightened, her tone low, deliberate. "Stop torturing yourself. Stop pretending you're made of stone. Let it out. All of it. You don't have to control yourself every second of the day."
Her words lingered between them, heavy, tempting. The wind swept across the rooftop, carrying away the sound of his shallow breathing.
Travier closed his eyes, gripping the railing so tightly the metal bit into his palms. If I let go... if I take her offer...
But his silence remained, the only defense he had left.
The silence stretched too long, and Ms. Travez tilted her head, her voice sharper now, pushing past his defenses.
"I can help cover for you, Travier." Her words were steady, calculated. "And don't misunderstand—I'm not doing this for Vanessa. This isn't about her."
Travier's eyes flickered, but he still didn't speak.
Ms. Travez leaned closer to the railing, her gaze fixed on the horizon. "I'm saying this because you need it. Bottling up everything—your frustration, your stress—it's not strength. It's a slow poison. If you don't let it out, it'll choke you on stage and drag you down in front of the audience. I'm not saying this for Vanessa or for my gain... I'm trying to help you because I know that you have great potential, and wasting it on something that won't help you achieve your dream will get you nowhere."
Her tone shifted, lower, more insistent. "You're not just a model anymore, Travier. That world is too small for you now. You're acting, standing in front of cameras that broadcast you to thousands, maybe millions. Every look, every movement, every word will be judged, dissected, praised, or ridiculed. A single great review can launch you higher than you've ever dreamed, but a bad one? It'll chain you down as nothing more than a pretty face, stuck in the background forever."
Her words cut deep, too close to the insecurities gnawing at him.
She turned her head, eyes narrowing as if she could see straight through him. "But if you keep clinging too tightly to that one little world you've built with Saphirra, you'll never rise above it. You'll let yourself orbit around her and nowhere else. And then... you'll never achieve anything further."
Travier's breath hitched, a fire sparking in his chest—anger, fear, guilt all colliding. His grip on the railing tightened until his knuckles ached.
Ms. Travez lingered only a moment longer, her sharp eyes watching his rigid posture. Then she straightened and gave a final shake of her head.
"I'm only worried you'll dig your own failure," she said simply, her voice devoid of softness. With that, she turned and walked toward the rooftop door, heels clicking against the concrete. The door opened, closed, and she was gone.
Travier stayed where he was, fingers locked around the cold railing. The wind tugged at his clothes, his hair, but his chest felt heavier than stone.
Her words echoed, cutting through the silence. Failure. Stuck as a model. A small world that never grows...
He drew in a shaky breath, staring at the horizon as if it might offer answers. Deep down, he knew she wasn't entirely wrong. He couldn't just cling to the life he had now, not if he wanted more. Not if he wanted to protect Saphirra in the long run.
'If I succeed here... if I climb high enough... then everything changes. I can finally give her the life she deserves. I can take care of her, build a family with her, and keep her from having to work so hard all the time.'
His chest tightened, guilt threading through his determination. He hated the idea of loosening his grip on Saphirra, even for a second. But maybe—just maybe—stepping forward now would mean holding her closer in the future, even if it means dividing his attention now and focusing more on his career.
Travier closed his eyes and exhaled, his jaw set. He had to endure. He had to push forward. For Saphirra. For their future.
Travier pushed open the rooftop door and stepped back into the hallway. The heavy thoughts still weighed on him, but his resolve was clearer now, sharper. By the time he re-entered the set, his expression had shifted—no longer distracted or restless, but focused, his eyes holding a quiet fire.
Ms. Travez, who had been speaking with one of the crew members, noticed instantly. Her gaze lingered on him as he walked toward his mark, the script in his hand no longer trembling but steady.
Travier caught her watching. For a brief moment, he dipped his head in acknowledgment. Ms. Travez returned it with the faintest of nods, and though her expression remained professional, a flicker of pride touched her lips.
She knew. He'd chosen to step forward.
Vanessa, standing by with her coffee, blinked at him in surprise. The man who had been distant and withdrawn minutes ago now carried himself differently—like someone who belonged here, someone ready to take the spotlight.
The director clapped his hands together. "Alright! Let's run the scene again. This time, I want raw emotion. Show me you're living it, not just reading it."
Travier exhaled, squared his shoulders, and when the cameras started rolling, he delivered his lines with a force and clarity that silenced the room. Every word carried weight, every expression drew attention.
For the first time, even Vanessa forgot to hover near him.
And Ms. Travez, arms crossed and eyes gleaming, thought to herself: 'Yes... This is the beginning. He'll thrive higher this time.'
_____________________________
The shoot wrapped earlier than expected, six full scenes completed in a single day—an impressive feat. The director was practically glowing with pride, clapping his hands and thanking everyone for their hard work.
"Everyone did great today!" The director, Mr. Yelric, exclaimed. "This calls for a celebration!"
The cast and crew cheered, relieved and excited, their exhaustion drowned out by the promise of food, laughter, and a night to loosen up. Tables were dragged together, drinks were passed around, and the room quickly shifted into a lively party.
Laughter echoed, voices overlapped, and music hummed softly in the background. For a while, it felt like family.
But then, someone looked around and asked, "Hey... where's Travier?"
A few heads turned, scanning the crowd. Vanessa's smile faltered as she realized he wasn't there. One of the crew shrugged. "He left early again. Said he was tired."
Another chimed in, "He's always like that. Never really sticks around for fun."
Their words carried no malice, only curiosity—but the absence was felt. Travier had become the center of attention on set these past days, and yet, when it came to moments like this, he seemed to vanish.
Vanessa lowered her gaze, fingers tightening around her untouched drink. Meanwhile, Ms. Travez sat at the edge of the celebration, quietly observing. A small sigh escaped her lips. 'He's still holding back... even now. But that's good... he knows his limit and when to stop'
TRAVIER POV.
Travier reached the parking lot, already fishing his keys from his pocket, when the sound of quick footsteps echoed behind him.
"Travier!"
He turned, surprised to see Vanessa jogging lightly toward him, her hair bouncing with each step. She slowed to a halt, a faint smile curving her lips.
"What are you doing here?" Travier asked, brows furrowing. "Shouldn't you be at the party?"
Vanessa chuckled softly, shaking her head. "I'm not a fan of parties. Too loud, too messy. I prefer... something quieter."
Travier didn't answer, only nodded and looked away, eyes fixed on his car. He could almost picture Saphirra waiting at home, her warm smile greeting him as always.
But then Vanessa's voice broke his thoughts. "Hey... how about we stop by that café nearby? Just for a quick bite, maybe coffee. Call it a little celebration for today's improvement. Nothing fancy, nothing long."
He froze, hesitation clear in the way his hand gripped the car door. His chest tightened. 'Saphirra'... He remembered her tired eyes each night when he came home late, yet she still pushed herself to cook him dinner and prepare everything for the next day.
And then, Ms. Travez's voice rang in his head: There's nothing wrong with indulging in something. Stop controlling yourself too tightly.
Travier swallowed hard. Maybe... maybe she was right. It wouldn't hurt, just once. A little coffee, nothing more.
He turned back to Vanessa, who was waiting with a hopeful look. Finally, he gave a small nod. "Alright... let's go."
Her smile widened, and for a fleeting second, Travier felt a pang of guilt deep in his chest. But he pushed it down, telling himself it was harmless.
Travier assisted her to climb into the front seat before he jogged on the other side and slipped behind the wheel. Ms. Travez gave him the car key earlier and told him that he can use it to go home alone starting this day, but she will take a grab every morning to pick him up at his house, then use the car to head back to the Luminara together.
The car fell into silence the whole drive. Vanessa tried to make a conversation, only to receive a few short replies from him.
They soon arrived at the parking lot of the café and slipped into a quiet corner booth of the café, the warm hum of chatter and the soft aroma of roasted beans filling the air. Vanessa glanced up at the menu board, and her eyes widened.
"Oh my gosh—look, my favorite's on promo!" she squealed softly, tugging lightly at Travier's arm as though they were longtime friends. "And it even comes with free dishes! Tell me that's not tempting."
Travier blinked at her, caught off guard by how carefree she suddenly looked. There was no trace of the polished actress everyone saw on set—just a woman glowing with excitement over something so simple.
Without realizing it, a small smile curved at the corners of his lips.
Vanessa froze mid-sentence, catching his expression. Her face shifted quickly into a frown, and she shot him a glare. "What's funny?"
Travier shook his head, a soft chuckle escaping him. "Nothing."
"Liar," she muttered, crossing her arms but unable to hide the faint blush coloring her cheeks.
He leaned back in his seat, still smiling faintly. "Really, nothing. You just... looked different, that's all."
Vanessa's frown softened, though she rolled her eyes dramatically, grabbing a menu to hide her grin. "Hmph. You're weird."
Travier chuckled again, but deep down, guilt gnawed at him. The ease between them was dangerous. And yet, sitting here, it felt... strangely light compared to the weight he carried every day.
They ordered the promo set, Vanessa practically bouncing in her seat when the drinks and side dishes arrived. She dug in happily, talking about little things—her favorite cafés, random funny moments on set, and even teasing him for being too serious most of the time.
Travier mostly listened, nodding here and there, his lips tugging into the smallest smiles whenever her energy became too contagious to resist.
At one point, Vanessa leaned closer and smirked. "See? Not so bad, right? You should thank me. You actually smiled today."
Travier raised an eyebrow. "I smile."
"Not the same," she said with a mock stern look before giggling, sipping her drink with satisfaction.
He shook his head, amused but choosing not to argue. The atmosphere remained light, playful—nothing deep, nothing heavy. Just... a breather.
By the time they finished, the café had thinned out, and the night air was cool when they stepped outside.
"I'm glad you joined me," Vanessa said, stretching her arms above her head. "You should loosen up more often."
Travier gave her a faint smile but didn't respond, checking the time instead. It was later than he expected.
"Thanks," he muttered finally, short and clipped, before heading toward his car.
Vanessa watched him go, her expression unreadable in the dim glow of the streetlights. Then, with a small smile to herself, she turned the other way.
__________________
Travier drove home, the image of Saphirra waiting for him tugging at his chest. He knew she'd still greet him with warmth, even though he was late. The thought both comforted him and deepened the guilt simmering inside.
By the time Travier arrived home, the house was quiet, and the lights in the living room dimmed. He set his bag down and spotted Saphirra curled up on the couch, her hair a little messy, her chest rising and falling in a steady rhythm of sleep.
Travier walked closer, kneeling beside her. For a moment, he just stared—at the peacefulness on her face, at how even in her sleep she seemed to be waiting for him. Slowly, he reached out and brushed his fingers against her cheek. Her skin was soft and warm against his palm, and it made something heavy press against his chest.
The guilt crawled up his throat. He swallowed hard, his lips tightening as he let out a heavy sigh.
'I'm sorry...' he thought, his gaze lowering. 'I should be here more, with you. After this film is done, I'll make it right. I'll give you all the attention I've missed. I'll give you everything you deserve.'
He leaned down and pressed a soft kiss on her forehead. For a split second, Saphirra stirred, her lips parting as though she might wake, but she only shifted slightly before slipping back into slumber.
Travier stood quietly, his hand lingering over hers for a moment longer, before pulling away. The weight of his promise burned in his chest, a vow he wasn't sure how long he could hold onto.
With a careful motion, Travier slipped one arm beneath Saphirra's knees and the other behind her back, lifting her in a bridal style. She stirred lightly against his chest but didn't wake, only nuzzling closer into him, as if instinctively knowing it was him.
Step by step, he carried her upstairs, his heartbeat heavy with guilt and longing. Once inside their bedroom, he gently lay her down, tucking the blanket snugly around her frame. For a moment, he stood there, just watching the way her lashes fanned across her cheeks, how peaceful she looked despite his late return.
Leaning down, he whispered, "Goodnight, my love... I'm sorry. I'll make it up to you, I promise." His lips brushed her temple, lingering there as though sealing the vow.
After a quick shower, Travier changed into a pair of pajamas and slid into bed beside her. He slipped an arm around her waist, pulling her close until her back rested against his chest. The warmth of her body soothed the storm inside him, even as his mind still churned with thoughts of the film and everything it demanded from him.
But for now, in this quiet moment, he allowed himself to let go. He pressed one last kiss to her shoulder before his eyes drifted shut, holding her as though he was afraid to ever let her go. Sleep eventually claimed him, wrapped in the fragile comfort of her presence.