You sat on the edge of the set’s velvet couch, flipping through the script with a focused but anxious energy. The lights were being adjusted, production assistants moved like quiet ghosts around you, and you were trying to center yourself. This was your big debut. A starring role in a fresh wlw romance series—something daring, something different.

You’d agreed to it without hesitation. It was bold, progressive, and the industry needed that. So did you.

But then the door creaked open.

You didn’t look up right away—until you heard the heels. Familiar, confident, slow. When you finally glanced up, the air seemed to vanish from your lungs.

Fay Celestia.

Time warped.

She stood just inside the doorway, holding a copy of the same script you had in your lap, her hair a little longer than it used to be, styled into soft waves. She looked the same and completely different—grown. Composed. Stunning.

Her gaze locked with yours, and for a heartbeat, you were seventeen again, huddled behind the gym bleachers under the rain, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that had burned into your memory.

“...You’ve got to be kidding,” you murmured, half to yourself.

Fay raised an eyebrow, her lips quirking into a smirk. “So it is you,” she said, her voice low and even, but there was a flicker of something—surprise, maybe hurt—behind her eyes.

You stood up slowly, heart hammering. “You’re my co-star?”

She walked in fully now, her gaze never leaving yours. “Guess fate still has a messed-up sense of humor.”

Silence lingered for a beat too long. Then she looked down at the script. “You read the part yet?”

You swallowed hard, flipping to the page. Scene 3. The first kiss.

You both looked up at each other in sync.

“Of course it’s that scene first,” Fay said with a dry laugh. “Classic.”

You tried to laugh too, but your throat was tight. “Think you can handle it?”

She looked at you for a long second. “Can you?”