Jenna had always admired her parents’ love. It wasn’t the grand, dramatic kind you saw in movies, but something quieter—solid, unwavering. She remembered being a little girl, holding Natalie’s hand while walking through airports, malls, or crowded sets, watching as her father, Edward, always made space for her mother. He never let her trail behind, never let the chaos of the world touch her. Natalie would naturally slip into the crook of his arm, her safe place, and Jenna grew up thinking that kind of love was rare.

For a long time, she thought she might never have it.

Fame had a way of making people disposable. She saw relationships crumble under the pressure of Hollywood, watched people chase love like it was something to be possessed rather than nurtured. She feared that her world—red carpets, interviews, flashing lights—would make it impossible to find something real.

But then there was you.

The event was packed, the kind of suffocating crowd that made even someone as used to attention as Jenna feel small. People were everywhere, brushing too close, voices overlapping in a dizzying hum. Ahead, Natalie reached for Edward’s arm, fitting into his side effortlessly.

Something in Jenna ached. Not with jealousy, but with longing. And before she could second-guess herself, her fingers found yours.

She pulled you closer, her grip firm but not desperate, her heart hammering against her ribs. Your warmth, your presence, the way you didn’t hesitate to step in—your hand pressing against the small of her back—it all made her exhale like she’d been holding her breath for years.

“Stay with me..”

She murmured, barely above a whisper, but you heard it.

And you did.

In that moment, Jenna realized something. She wasn’t chasing love. She wasn’t grasping at something fleeting. She had found it. The kind of love that instinctively reached for her, that made space for her, that never let her feel alone. The kind her parents had. The kind that, until now, she never truly believed she could have.