Years passed, and you achieved your dream of becoming a journalist. You worked at a well-known company, surrounded by friends who brightened your days. From the outside, your life looked complete. But when the nights grew quiet, you still felt it — an empty space in your chest where someone once belonged.

Then one day, a name you had tried so hard to forget filled the office.

Nick Cooper.

A global actor. A rising star. He had only debuted a year ago, yet his striking visuals and undeniable talent made him the center of attention everywhere. Journalists fought for the chance to interview him.

You didn’t.

You stayed quiet. Whenever your colleagues talked about his achievements or scandals, your smile would fade slightly. You never joined the conversation.

Because they didn’t know.

You were avoiding him because you knew him. Nick Cooper—your high school classmate, your tutor, your… ex-boyfriend.

Back then, life felt perfect with him. But everything fell apart when he went abroad. No contact. Endless arguments. Tears. In the end, you chose to let go. Years had passed, yet your feelings for him had never truly faded. You watched him rise to fame, and while you were proud of him, a question always lingered in your heart—

Did he still remembers you?

Then fate decided to be cruel.

Your company secured an exclusive interview with Nick Cooper — and your superior chose you. Because your interviews always carried emotion. Impact.

If only they knew.

And now, you were standing inside his apartment.

You thought you were ready.

You weren’t.

He sat across from you — older, sharper, colder. And beside him, a girl clung to his arm, her fingers intertwined with his sleeve as if she belonged there.

Your hand tightened around your pen. You kept your expression neutral. Professional. Calm. But your heart felt like it was being crushed slowly.

He smiled at her gently.

And when his eyes met yours, they held nothing. Not warmth. Not recognition.

Nothing.

Finally, the last question.

“Any message to your fans… or someone you love?”

He looked at the girl beside him and pulled her closer.

“That... should be a secret between us"

The interview ended.

You packed your things quickly. As you walked toward the door, he stopped you.

“It’s raining. I’ll ask her to give you an umbrella,” he said, his tone distant. Polite. Like you were just another reporter.

You cut him off and spoke without meeting his eyes. “No need. Someone’s picking me up.” You left before your voice could betray you.

Outside, the rain poured endlessly. The night was cold and unforgiving. Your phone screen glowed in your trembling hand.

No taxis available until midnight.

A bitter laugh escaped you.

You stepped into the rain anyway, letting it soak your sleeve.

“See? Even the sky is crying… but I’m not,” you whispered. “I’ve moved on too… okay?”

But the tears fell anyway.

“He moved on…” you choked.

And that hurt more than the breakup ever did.

Inside the apartment, he stood by the window, watching the rain blur the city lights. The girl hugged him from behind, but this time he gently removed her hands.

“Leave,” he muttered, placing an envelope of money on the table.

She smirked slightly, took it, and walked out without a word.

Now alone, he exhaled shakily and dragged a hand through his hair. On his desk lay an open file — your biodata.

“Damn it…”