Sunshine's POV
The abandoned theatre smells like rain and forgotten dreams.
I shouldn't be here. The building condemned years ago, its velvet curtains rotting, and stage boards cracked like broken promises. But there he stands—Kael Devereaux—under a single spotlight that has no source, dressed in black, that seems to swallow the darkness around him.
"You came," he says, and his voice is nothing like the interviews. It's not cold. Not distant. It trembles.
I step closer. My feet make no sound. "I always come."
His eyes—those eyes the tabloids call "dead," "empty," "the gaze of someone who feels nothing"—are looking at me like I'm the only real thing in his world. He reaches out, and I notice his hands are shaking.
"They don't know, do they?" I whisper. "That you're breaking."
"No one sees it but you, Sunshine." The way he says my name makes my chest ache. "No one ever has."
The theater begins to shift. The walls bleed red—not paint, something living. The spotlight flickers. Kael's face contorts in pain, and suddenly he's backing away from me, his expression twisting into something I don't recognize.
"Don't look at me like that," he gasps. "Don't look at me like I'm—"
The ground beneath us cracks open.
I'm falling, reaching for him, screaming his name, and he's reaching back but our fingers never touch, never—
---
I bolted upright in bed, gasping.
"Ah... this is exactly how I dream of him every single night."
My heart hammered against my ribs as I pressed my hand to my chest. The cheap alarm clock on my nightstand blinked 5:47 AM. Too early. Too late. Didn't matter—I hadn't slept properly in weeks.
From the next room, I heard it. The sound that always followed my mother's nightmares: a crash, then her muffled crying, then his voice. My stepfather. Low and mean, the kind of voice that didn't need to yell to terrify.
I closed my eyes and pulled my threadbare blanket tighter, blocking it out the only way I knew how—by thinking of him.
Kael Devereaux. The nation's biggest idol. The man everyone loved to hate.
My phone was already in my hand before I realized I'd reached for it, my fingers moving on autopsy to his fan page. The latest post was from yesterday: a blurry photo of him leaving the KDX Entertainment building, his security guard blocking a fan who'd gotten too close.
The comments were vicious as always.
"So arrogant. Didn't even look at her."
"He treats people like trash. My friend works there and says he's a nightmare."
"Cold-hearted bastard. Money can't buy you a soul."
I scrolled past them, chest tight with an anger I couldn't explain to anyone who'd listen. They didn't know him. They saw the mask—the beautiful, untouchable Kael Devereaux who never smiled, never thanked fans, never pretended to care.
But I'd seen something else.
It was three months ago, outside the hospital at 2 AM. I'd been visiting Mom after another "accident"—that's what we called them when she showed up with bruises she swore came from falling. I was crying on the bench outside, trying to figure out how to pay the bill, when a black car pulled up.
He'd stepped out alone. No manager. No security. Just Kael Devereaux in a hoodie, looking more exhausted than any human being should look.
We'd made eye contact for exactly three seconds.
In those three seconds, I saw it—the same thing I saw in my dreams. The cracks in his carefully constructed armor. The desperate, drowning look of someone who was screaming inside a soundproof room.
Then his face had gone blank again, and he'd walked into the hospital without a word.
But I knew.
A bang from the next room snapped me back to reality. I heard my mother's voice, pleading, and my stepfather's response—something about money, always money.
I grabbed my work uniform from the chair and dressed quickly. My job at the convenience store didn't start until seven, but I needed to leave. Needed to breathe.
As I slipped out the front door, my phone buzzed.
BREAKING: Kael Devereaux Involved in Alleged Assault at KDX Entertainment
My stomach dropped.
I clicked the article, hands shaking.
Sources report that Kael Devereaux physically attacked a staff member early this morning after a disagreement during rehearsal. The staff member was hospitalized with minor injuries. KDX Entertainment has not yet released a statement. This is the third incident this year involving the idol's alleged violent behavior...
"No," I whispered. "No, that's not—"
But I stopped myself. Because I didn't know, did I? I didn't actually know anything about Kael Devereaux except what I'd imagined, what I'd dreamed, what I'd convinced myself I'd seen in three seconds outside a hospital.
Maybe everyone was right. Maybe he really was exactly what they said—a monster with a pretty face.
My phone buzzed again.
KDX Entertainment Emergency Hiring: Personal Assistant Position Available Immediately
I stared at the notification.
It felt like the universe was asking me a question I wasn't ready to answer.
The morning air was cold against my skin as I stood outside my apartment building, the city just beginning to wake up around me. Somewhere out there, Kael Devereaux was living his nightmare.
And I couldn't shake the feeling that somehow, mine was about to collide with his.
I clicked on the job posting.
Requirements: Strong stress tolerance. Discretion mandatory. Previous experience preferred but not required. Must be available to start immediately.
My finger hovered over the "Apply Now" button.
This was insane. I was nobody. A broke girl with a high school diploma and a dream that wouldn't let me go. What made me think I could survive in Kael Devereaux's world when everyone else seemed to break?
But then I thought about my mother's voice through the walls. The bills piling up. The life I was living that felt like drowning in slow motion.
And I thought about those three seconds. The crack in his armor. The look that said help me in a language only I seemed to speak.
I pressed the button.
The screen loaded.
And somewhere in the city, I imagined Kael Devereaux waking up to another day of being misunderstood, another day of being called Mr. Nonchalant when he was anything but.
"I see you," I whispered to no one. "Even if no one else does."
My phone screen went dark, reflecting my face back at me.
I looked like someone about to make either the best or worst decision of her life.
I suppose I'd find out which.
---
END OF CHAPTER 1