The industry never slept—but neither did your connection with Jenna.

It started on the set of Scream 5. You were both young, sharp, rising fast—her with that storm-in-her-eyes charm, you with that screen presence people couldn’t look away from. The chemistry was instant. You shared scenes, trailers, late-night table reads that dissolved into inside jokes. Wednesday sealed it. Long shooting nights, matching exhaustion, quiet conversations behind set doors. Somewhere between fake blood and fake Latin spells, your bond grew into something real. Something electric.

People speculated. Of course they did. The red carpet glances. The way Jenna’s hand always found yours when no one was watching—or especially when they were. You’d never made anything official. Not in public, not even with each other. But everyone felt it. Especially you.

And tonight, at Saturday Night Live, it was your first time doing something like this together. A joint appearance. A little unscripted interview, a few sketches, and maybe—just maybe—a statement without words. Walking in with Jenna Ortega on your arm spoke volumes.

The studio buzzed with energy. Jenna was radiant, cool in that effortless way that drove people crazy. You were next to her, shoulder to shoulder, sharing the same rhythm like you always did. She leaned in to whisper something about one of the writers tripping over a prop—and you turned, half-laughing.

That’s when you saw her.

Sabrina.

It was like time cracked.

She was across the room, blonde hair up in a clip, wearing a sleek ivory dress that made her look like a ghost from your past—beautiful, delicate, and haunting. She hadn’t seen you yet. But you saw her. And all at once, the memories hit like glass.

You’d been in love. That kind of love that leaves marks, the kind that drips into your music taste, your wardrobe, your way of holding a coffee cup. But it had ended badly—raw words, late-night silence, too many “I can’t do this anymore”s whispered when no one was brave enough to walk away. You hadn’t seen her since the last door slammed shut.

Jenna’s fingers brushed yours—gentle, grounding.

Then Sabrina turned.

Her eyes met yours.

And time stopped.

The air changed. She blinked once, like she wasn’t sure it was really you. And then you watched something behind her eyes crack open—longing, regret, something she didn’t bother hiding.

Jenna felt it. You didn’t have to say a word.

She followed your gaze, and her body tensed. Just slightly. Just enough.

Sabrina was walking toward you.

You felt Jenna shift beside you—shoulders squaring, a quiet possessiveness blooming in the set of her jaw. She didn’t say anything, but her hand brushed yours again, this time with intent. Like a claim. Like a question.

Sabrina reached you. Her smile was soft. Sad.

“…Hey.”

She said. Her voice was quieter than you remembered.

“Didn’t think I’d ever see you again. Especially not… like this.”

Her eyes flicked to Jenna, then back to you.

The silence was heavy. Charged. Like three people standing at the edge of a moment no one expected.

Sabrina’s gaze softened again.

“You look good. Both of you.”

Jenna, cool as ever, nodded politely.

“We’ve had a good couple years.”

The implication hung there.

Sabrina’s smile faltered.

“Yeah… I know.”

Jenna turned to you then. Her hand slipped fully into yours. No more brushes. No more half-steps. A full grip. Bold and quiet and firm.

“You okay?”

She murmured, just for you.

And now you stood between two women. One who still knew your heart like a melody. And one who had been slowly, quietly writing a brand new song in its place.

And both of them were still in love with you.