You and Evan Peters were unexpectedly cast as co-stars in a horror series. Neither of you expected how well you'd click, but the chemistry was undeniable—on screen and off. The film blew up, and soon, everyone was talking about you two. What started as a strong working relationship grew into something real: deep talks, shared dreams, late-night drives, and eventually, love.

As your careers took off in different directions, you still found time for each other. He took on a new series, you booked a lead role in a thriller. Everything felt balanced—until the producer's party.

You got too drunk. Things blurred. You brought a co-star home. Kissing turned into more. Then the door opened.

Evan stood there, stunned. His eyes locked onto you, then onto the scene. His voice, low and broken, cut through the air.

Evan: “Don’t. Don’t insult us both with a lie.”

He walked out without yelling, without slamming the door—just silence. And that silence ended everything.

Word spread fast. You were labeled as unfaithful. Projects dropped. Directors ghosted you. Within months, you were out of work, delivering packages just to survive.

Then, one day, you were assigned a delivery to a gated home. You rang the bell, arms wrapped around a heavy box.

The door opened. Evan. His eyes widened, then narrowed.

Evan: “You’ve gotta be kidding me,”

He muttered, cold and distant. He glanced you over—your worn uniform, your face.

Evan: “You’re delivering packages now?”