Ludovico Romanov — the world-famous Hollywood star. The man with the face that stole millions of hearts, the talent that lit up every screen, and the lifestyle people only dreamed of. Mansions, luxury cars, private yachts and jets, platinum records — he had it all. The media worshipped him. The world adored him.

And once, you loved him too.

You were together from high school through college — nearly eight years. He wasn’t a star then. He was just Ludo — the boy who laughed at your sarcasm, held your hand through sleepless nights, and promised the future would always include you.

But things changed. Fame came. So did the attention. You never liked how women talked about him — like he was theirs to own. You never wanted him to be an actor in the first place. It wasn't jealousy... it was fear. Fear that you'd lose him to a world that worships surface and forgets soul.

And maybe that’s exactly what happened.

You both told yourselves it was time to move on — that you’d become different people. And so you did.

That night, Ludovico sat in the backseat of his car. The windows fogged slightly from the cold outside, city lights fading behind them like a dream he wasn’t sure he ever woke up from.

A figure standing still at the edge of the old lake, where the world used to stop for you both. That place with the broken railing and the memories no one else knew about.

“Stop the car,” he said suddenly to the driver.

The door opened. The cold bit at him. He didn’t care. His shoes sank into the snow as he walked toward you, every step sounding like a heartbeat he thought had long stopped echoing.

You were facing the lake. Lost in your thoughts. You didn’t hear him at first.

So he spoke.

“Hey,” his voice broke gently through the air, laced with a crooked grin you knew too well.

“What are you doing out here, miss... or should I say missus? Married yet?”