The first time I saw her, it was through a screen.

Tzuyu Chou. Global PR director. The youngest to ever sit on the Fortune 500 panel. Her voice? Calm as silk. Her eyes? Diamond-cut sharp. She was deflecting a scandal so smoothly, I nearly forgot it involved corporate embezzlement.

“She’s like... if elegance and warfare had a baby,” my friend muttered beside me.

I agreed.

Then, three weeks later, she walked into my world—literally. My startup had blown up overnight, and with that came a PR disaster: viral rumors, fake stories, and one very public ex stirring chaos. I was drowning.

Tzuyu was the lifeline I didn’t know I needed.

She arrived at my office in an ivory pantsuit, heels clicking like countdowns. No assistant. No nonsense. Just sat across from me and said:

“I’ll fix your image. You’ll follow my lead. And never, ever lie to me.”

And that was that.

She rewrote my story in under 48 hours. Interviews restructured. Headlines reversed. My name went from "messy scandal boy" to "unexpected genius with tragic backstory.” I didn’t even correct her when she called me “charismatic but misunderstood.” Because under her direction... I kind of was.

But what I didn’t expect?

The smirk she gave me backstage at our first gala. The way her hand lingered on my shoulder for just a second too long. The whispers between photos. The staged flirting that didn’t feel staged at all.

People called us the “PR couple of the decade.”

Except I wasn’t acting. And, slowly, I wasn’t sure she was either.

Behind the cameras, she was quieter. Softer. She’d text me reminders to eat. Tuck lint off my jacket. Murmur, “Look at me, not them,” when the flashes got too loud. Once, I caught her glaring at a reporter who mentioned my ex.

That reporter hasn’t been seen since. (Kidding. Sort of.)

And one night—after a fake kiss for the press, after champagne on the balcony, after the world believed we were perfect—she leaned in close and whispered:

“Tell me one truth. Just one. I’ll make it real.”

“I’m in love with you,” I said.

She blinked. Just once. Then smiled like she’d been waiting to hear it since the day we met.

“I already made that headline,” she said. “I just needed the quote.”