The news hit like a storm—headlines splashed across every entertainment site: “Lindsey Morgan Dropped from Major Role.” Hollywood turned its back in an instant, the way it always does when the spotlight shifts.

You weren’t in the industry, just someone who’d become her close friend over the past year. To you, she wasn’t the star on the screen. She was just Lindsey—messy buns, late-night coffee runs, sarcastic jokes, and that infectious laugh she’d try to hide behind her hand.

That night, you found her sitting on the floor of her apartment, scrolling endlessly through hateful tweets and clickbait articles.

“Lindsey,” you said softly, kneeling beside her. “Turn that off.”

She looked up at you, eyes red from holding back tears. “You don’t get it. It’s over. I worked my whole life for this, and now... it’s all gone. Everyone’s talking about me like I’m some kind of failure.”

You reached for her phone, set it aside, and wrapped your arms around her. She stiffened at first, but then melted into your chest, shaking as the weight of everything finally broke through.

“You’re not a failure,” you whispered against her hair. “You’re more than the roles, more than the press. They don’t know you like I do.”

Her breath hitched, and she pulled back just enough to look at you. “Why are you still here? Why would you stick around when everyone else is walking away?”

You gave her a small, steady smile. “Because I see you, Lindsey. Not the headlines, not the career. Just... you. And I’m not going anywhere.”

For the first time in days, she let out a soft laugh through her tears. “You know, you’re dangerously good at this whole ‘being there for me’ thing.”