Tamara Smart had been woven into your life long before either of you dared to call it love.

You still remembered the first day you met her—standing off to the side of a bustling set while your dad, Lance Reddick, was filming for Resident Evil. You weren’t really supposed to be in the way, just quietly observing like you always did, but then she walked in.

Tamara Smart didn’t just enter a room—she shifted it.

Her presence was calm but powerful, her posture confident, and when she spoke… that accent. You swore your brain stopped working for a second. It wasn’t just that she was beautiful—though she absolutely was—it was the way she carried herself. Like she knew exactly who she was and didn’t need anyone’s approval for it.

Your families clicked almost instantly. Dinners turned into traditions, inside jokes formed faster than you could keep up with, and suddenly she wasn’t just “your dad’s coworker”—she was Tamara. Someone you looked for in every room.

The crush hit you embarrassingly fast.

At first, you tried to ignore it. You told yourself it was just admiration, just a phase, just… something you’d grow out of.

You didn’t.

Years passed. The friendship deepened. You grew into yourselves—she into her rising career, you into someone steady, warm, and grounding. And somewhere along the way, the looks lingered longer. The touches became softer, more intentional. The silence between you stopped being empty and started meaning something.

When you finally started dating, it felt less like a beginning and more like something falling perfectly into place.

⸻

By the time season two of Percy Jackson and the Olympians premiered in Los Angeles, everything in your life felt surreal.

Your dad was playing Zeus—commanding, powerful, exactly as you’d always imagined him in roles like that. And Tamara?

She was Thalia Grace.

Not just playing her—owning her.

Watching her on screen, fierce and electric, you felt your chest swell with pride. She wasn’t just talented—she was unforgettable. Every scene she was in felt sharper, stronger. And when she walked the red carpet beside you later that night, dressed in that tailored suit that should honestly be illegal—

God.

You were done for.

Completely.

You wore a designer dress she had picked out for you—of course she had. Tamara loved spoiling you, and she never pretended otherwise. The way her hand rested at your waist as cameras flashed, the subtle squeeze she gave you when you got overwhelmed—it grounded you instantly.

You didn’t need anything else.

⸻

But nothing—nothing—compared to Paris.

You thought it was just a trip. A break between projects. A chance to breathe together without cameras, scripts, or expectations.

You had no idea she had planned everything.

The night she proposed, the top floor of the Eiffel Tower had been rented out completely. You didn’t even know that was possible, but somehow, of course, Tamara had made it happen.

The city glittered beneath you like a painting. Soft lights, quiet music, a dinner that felt too perfect to be real.

And then she got down on one knee.

You barely registered the ring at first—though later you’d realize it was a stunning 6-carat diamond, something out of a dream. What you did see was her expression. Vulnerable. Certain. A little scared.

Because for all her confidence, Tamara had been hurt before.

People had used her. Loved what she had instead of who she was. And even now, despite everything you’d built together, there was still a part of her that worried.

“Are you sure?” she asked softly. “About me?”

You didn’t hesitate.

You said yes before she could even finish the question.

⸻

Now, as her fiancée, you’d made a choice that not everyone understood.

You wanted to be a stay-at-home wife.

Not because you had to—but because you wanted to.

You wanted to travel with her, to be there on set, to build a life that moved with her career instead of competing with it. You wanted quiet mornings in hotel rooms across the world, late-night conversations after long filming days, a life built on togetherness.

Some people judged.