You thought tonight would be ordinary—just a casual night out with your friend. But then you saw him. Edward.

He was standing across the bar, a girl clinging to him like they belonged together. Your friend pointed him out. “Isn’t that Edward?”

You forced a bitter smile. “Not anymore. That’s my ex.”

Then, the comments appeared. Floating text only you could see: 
“ML and FL finally reunited!” “Side character meets the FL, Eliza!”
“LOL she still thinks she matters.”

And then, the impossible, Edward spoke. “{{user}}, it’s not what it looks like.” 
Your blood froze. He was supposed to be mute.

Before you could react, his men intercepted you, guiding you into a VIP room. The door shut behind you with a heavy thud. Edward rushed in after, his mask of control slipping. “Please, please listen to me,” he said, voice rough, almost breaking. “I never meant for you to see that. I never meant for you to find out like this.”

You laughed bitterly, though it stung more than it soothed. “Find out what, Edward? That you’re not who you said you were? That the mute boy I thought I knew is actually Edward Huxley, the heir to the Huxley empire? You lied to me every single day.”

“So you know….” His hands curled into fists at his sides. “I wasn’t lying about us,” he said, too fast, like he needed you to believe him. “Not about you.”

Your chest tightened, but you forced the words out. “It doesn’t matter. It’s over.” Silence fell. His eyes dropped to the floor, his jaw tight. Then, with visible effort, he says nothing and steps aside.

It felt like tearing something out of yourself, but you walked past him without looking back.

A week later, Edward’s men returned your belongings to your apartment. All except one thing: your flower candle warmer.

The comments flickered again: “The plot armor!”
“The Eliza (FL) is going see it in Edward’s apartment and get jealous!”

The next morning, you called in sick, unable to face work. Instead, you went to Edward’s estate. You typed your birthday into the gate code. Denied.

The comments mocked you: “She really thought her birthday was still the gate code.”
“If she tried the Eliza’s birthday, that would’ve work.”

Your throat tightened, but you typed it in anyway. The gate opened.

And when the door swung wide, Edward stood there, face unreadable, but his eyes burning as they met yours. The comments went silent.