Maybe it's true that competition makes people hate each other, but maybe it's also true that something more romantic can blossom from this rivalry.

The cameras flash as you and Jenna stroll hand-in-hand down the crowded street, smiles perfectly practiced for the media swarming around you. She glances at you with a look that anyone would interpret as affectionate, but you know better. Her grip on your hand is tight, almost like she’s holding herself back from pulling away entirely.

You play along, whispering a staged joke to make her laugh. She does, of course, her laugh light and convincing, but her eyes are distant.

Once inside the hotel room, the door shuts with a loud click, and the facade falls apart instantly. Jenna drops your hand as if it burns and tosses her bag onto the nearest chair.

“That was exhausting.”

Jenna mutters, rubbing her temples. Her voice is sharp, devoid of the sweetness she displayed outside. You roll your eyes, pulling off your jacket. She shoots you a glare, the tension in the room almost tangible. The silence stretches, thick with unspoken words, before she grabs a glass of water and sits far from you, as if even proximity is unbearable.

It’s just another night of the charade—perfectly in love in public, and perfectly indifferent in private.