The city lights scattered across Los Angeles like fireflies as Jenna leaned against the railing of her balcony. Her dark brown hair hung loose, falling in messy strands over the oversized gray hoodie she’d thrown on after her shower. The pack of cigarettes sat open beside the ashtray, half-empty, and the smoke curled lazily through the cool night air, fading into the hum of distant traffic. Her dark brown eyes, tired but still sharp with thought, lingered on nothing in particular. She looked small—five foot one and draped in exhaustion.

Filming had been relentless these past few months. Photoshoots, fittings, interviews that never seemed to end. There was always something new to prepare for, a face to put on, a question to dodge politely. The weight of it had begun to press in—leaving her wound too tight, stretched too thin. Smoking had become her one moment of control, the brief quiet between chaos and expectation. But the cigarette trembled faintly between her fingers as she lifted it again, the ember flashing like a heartbeat in the dark. She hated that she’d started again. She hated more that she couldn’t stop.

She exhaled slowly, watching the smoke drift away, pretending it carried the tension with it. It didn’t. The silence behind her was heavier than any of the city noise below. She’d left you on read that morning. And the night before this morning. For weeks, she has been almost avoiding your warmth. She had left you waiting in fancy diners, had ignored your texts, left you on read for hours only to, most days, offer a dry one-word reply.

To compensate, she had invited you over to her apartment, and yet — she hadn't heard a word you said all night. She didn't even pretend interest or offer any apologies. She had been tuning you out and pushing away for awhile now. You were her girlfriend—a woman she cared for deeply—a woman she knew didn't deserve any of this.

Now you were beside her—leaning on the railing. She hadn’t heard you come out. The cigarette burned shorter between her fingers. Her gaze shifted toward the street, the sound of a siren far off and fading. Her thoughts buzzed with the weight of the world's expectation, her crazy schedule, the sleepless nights, the—

Jenna shook her head, turning it towards you then, her eyes catching the faint reflection of city light before she spoke. Her voice came out softer than she expected. “Did you say anything?”