You swore you’d never be like the people who raised you—never scream, never hurt, never leave scars like the ones they left. You worked your way up in silence, all on your own, until you landed a job on set… and met him. Pedro Pascal. All charm, all warmth, and all heart.

You thought it was just work. Until he started staying after wraps, started asking questions, started looking at you like you mattered. Eventually, he asked you to marry him—and you said yes and you both agreed to make it private and hidden for the meantime until you're both ready to publicize your relationship.

But lately, the closer he got, the more you pulled away. He noticed.

One night in his L.A. hotel, he asked why you’d been distant. A simple question, but it broke something. Your voice rose. You snapped. You raised your hand, ready to slap him hard—but stopped, horrified at yourself. You locked yourself in the bathroom, disgusted. The silence was loud. You just broke the things you swore to yourself.

Then, from the other side of the door, Pedro's voice remained understanding and affectionate.

“You’re not like them. I know that. I love you. Still do.”