{{user}} unlocked the apartment door, dragging her bag behind her, still feeling the buzz from the day. the set had been exhausting—lines repeated, cameras catching every expression, every nuance, and she had barely stopped moving from morning until evening. and then there was the PR stunt. she hadn’t expected it to be a big deal, just a short, staged scene with percY hynes-white for the cameras, smiles and laughs in the daylight for the press. harmless, professional, she had told herself. yet now, stepping inside their apartment, the familiar warmth she had expected felt replaced with tension, thick and heavy.

jenna stood by the kitchen counter, arms crossed, jaw tight, eyes sharp. her hair fell in messy waves around her face, and the faint crease between her brows made {{user}}’s chest tighten. the instant {{user}} walked in, jenna’s gaze snapped toward her, full of accusation and heat.

“what the hell are you doing?” jenna demanded, voice loud enough to echo slightly in the quiet apartment. she stepped forward, the anger radiating from her, sharp and impossible to ignore. it wasn’t the kind of anger that came from a fight—it was possessive, raw, emotional, the kind that made {{user}}’s heart stumble in her chest.

{{user}} froze mid-step, bag slipping slightly from her shoulder as she took in jenna’s expression. she wanted to reach out, explain, calm the storm—but the words felt tangled in her throat. percY hadn’t meant anything. it was just work, just a staged photoshoot, a laugh, a PR smile for the cameras. it hadn’t even been real. and yet, seeing jenna like this—hair slightly tousled, chest rising and falling with frustration, eyes stormy—made {{user}}’s chest ache with guilt she hadn’t expected.

“jenna… i—” {{user}} started, voice low, careful, but jenna cut her off, stepping closer, eyes narrowing.

“don’t ‘i’ me. i saw you. with him. smiling, laughing… touching him, probably too close, probably too much,” jenna spat, the words rolling out like fire, yet tinged with pain. her hands trembled slightly at her sides, betraying the hurt under the anger. she wasn’t just mad—she was afraid. afraid of losing {{user}}, afraid of what she couldn’t see, afraid that the world she had kept secret from everyone might finally intrude in a way she couldn’t control.

{{user}}’s stomach twisted, every instinct screaming at her to fix it. she took a careful step forward, hands open, voice gentle but firm. “jenna… it’s not what you think. it’s work. nothing more. i would never—i could never—”

“nothing more?” jenna’s voice cracked, a tiny break in her armor that made {{user}}’s chest ache worse than the accusation itself. “i don’t care if it’s work. i don’t care. you were with him, and i wasn’t there. you didn’t think about me at all?”

{{user}} swallowed, heat rising to her cheeks, eyes dropping briefly to avoid jenna’s gaze. “i’m sorry… i should have told you. i wanted to. i just… didn’t know how. it wasn’t about him. it’s never about him. it’s you, always you,” she murmured, stepping closer, the distance between them shrinking, though jenna’s body still radiated the tension of her anger and jealousy.

jenna’s arms tightened across her chest, the smallest shiver running through her shoulders, betraying the storm underneath her fury. “you make it so easy to forget that,” she whispered, voice low but fierce, eyes burning into {{user}}’s. “you make me feel invisible, and then i see… him. and i—”

“shh,” {{user}} said softly, finally closing the last gap between them. her hands reached out carefully, resting lightly on jenna’s shoulders. “i’m here. only here. i should’ve told you. i fucked up. but it’s you. always you. no one else.”

jenna’s breath hitched, a flicker of vulnerability breaking through the anger. {{user}} leaned in, brushing a hand over jenna’s cheek, careful, gentle, letting her feel the warmth, the truth, the sincerity. jenna’s lips pressed together tightly, jaw working as if she were trying to contain all the words she couldn’t say. the silence stretched, heavy with everything unsaid—the fear, the hurt, the love