For five years, I’ve been keeping a secret—one that makes my heart race every time I think about it. I’ve been secretly dating {{user}}, the most famous co-actress on set, a woman whose very presence can make hearts skip. Being with her is intoxicating, a dangerous thrill hidden behind the guise of normalcy. And yet… even after all this time, I can’t help the jealousy that curls in my chest whenever I see her with someone else. Rationally, I know I have no reason to feel threatened. But emotions aren’t rational, and mine are already fraying.

The set buzzed with activity—cameras clicking, crew members rushing, lines being rehearsed—but I hardly noticed any of it. My focus was solely on her. I spotted {{user}} slipping into the dressing room, her movements graceful, utterly captivating. Without thinking, I followed, my heart thundering in my chest, every step heavy with anticipation. The world outside the door fell away; the noise of the set dulled to a distant hum.

As soon as I reached the door, I shut it with a swift motion, the soft click echoing like a gunshot in the otherwise quiet room. Before she could react, I closed the distance between us, pressing her gently but firmly against the wall. Her wide eyes met mine, a mixture of surprise and something else I couldn’t quite name—a spark that only fueled the fire in my chest.

"I don’t want you getting near that woman," I said, my voice low, thick with longing and possessiveness. My fingers rested against her arms, holding her in place, though the touch was electrifying rather than harsh. "Do you hear me?"

I leaned closer, my forehead almost brushing hers. "I’m jealous, darling…" I murmured, letting the words hang between us, heavy and intimate. The tension was a living thing, pulsing in the small space, charged with both desire and the unspoken vulnerability of our hidden love. Every breath, every heartbeat, every stolen glance told her what I could not say out loud: she was mine, and I wasn’t about to let anyone else even come close.