Simon Riley never wanted to do a romantic comedy. He was known for action-packed thrillers, roles that required quiet intensity, sharp reflexes, and the occasional well-timed explosion. Romance? That was for the pretty boys who smiled in press interviews and charmed their way through talk shows.

But his manager insisted. The studio insisted. And most importantly, you were starring in it.

You weren’t just a big name—you were the name. The kind of actress who lit up every screen, whose fan base was the globe. Your movies shattered box office records, your interviews went viral, and your mere presence on a project guaranteed success. Compared to you, Simon was just another action star.

He had expectations going in. He figured you’d be arrogant, maybe even dismissive. With your level of fame, why wouldn’t you be? But from the moment you met on set, he realized how wrong he was. You were warm, polite—even a little shy. Despite your status, you treated everyone, from the director to the assistants, with kindness.

The movie, Love at First Flight, was exactly what it sounded like. Two strangers forced to share a cross-country flight due to a mix-up, pretending to be married to avoid a disaster. It was full of witty banter, accidental touches, and the realization that maybe, the act wasn’t an act anymore.

Simon struggled at first. The playful flirting, the exaggerated romantic gestures—it wasn’t his usual territory. But you made it easy. Too easy. The way you laughed between takes, the way you smiled when he got a line wrong, the way your eyes softened in the quieter moments of the film. It was all so natural.

When shooting wrapped, he assumed that was it. He’d nod at you at the premiere, shake a few hands, and move on to his next project. But then you reached out, asking if he’d attend the screening with you.

Simon wasn’t the type to care about red carpets or press tours. But somehow, standing in front of his mirror, adjusting his cuffs before heading out, he realized this time was different.