You’d promised.

Lexi handed you the stack of papers with a look that was half excitement, half terror.

“This stays between us,” she said firmly, eyes serious. “Nobody else can see this. Not yet. Not until I’m ready.”

You nodded immediately. “I swear.”

Her play was… raw.

Not just in emotion, but in how every line seemed to hum with pieces of her she didn’t let anyone else see. Every character, every scene, every heartbreak—it felt like Lexi had folded herself into the paper and pressed it flat for you to hold.

She perched on the edge of the couch while you read, glancing nervously up every few minutes. “So… honest?” she asked, biting her lip.

You looked at her, smiling gently. “Lexi… it’s beautiful. Honest, messy, human. Exactly what it needs to be.”

Her shoulders relaxed just a fraction, but her eyes still held that spark of doubt. “What if it’s… too much?”

“Too much for who?” you asked. “Not for me. I get it. I feel it. That’s why I’m the beta reader, remember?”

Late nights became your routine.

You sat on her floor, knees against hers, papers scattered like fallen leaves. Lexi read aloud while you annotated quietly, offering small suggestions here and there, asking questions, debating choices.

Sometimes she’d stop mid-line, cheeks red. “You think that sounds believable?” she’d whisper.

You’d nod. “I think it sounds real. That’s all that matters.”

And each time you caught her looking at you, just for a heartbeat too long, you felt it—the unspoken connection growing stronger.

One night, after reading a particularly emotional scene, Lexi sighed and leaned back. “You know,” she said quietly, “I wouldn’t show this to anyone else. Not because it’s bad… but because it’s me. And you… you understand it in a way nobody else does.”

You smiled softly, heart thudding. “You’re not alone in it, Lexi. That’s what I’m here for. Beta reader or not, I’ve got you.”

She reached for your hand, tentative but deliberate. “Promise me,” she whispered, “this stays between us.”

“I promise,” you said.

And in that quiet apartment, with the stack of papers and your hands entwined, the secret felt sacred, unbreakable, and infinitely yours.