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Chapter 4

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The noise of the party behind him faded as he stepped onto the balcony, the cool night air offering a much-needed reprieve from the overwhelming atmosphere inside. The view was stunning. The river stretched out below, shimmering under the moonlight, winding its way through the city like a silver ribbon. Lights from nearby buildings reflected off its surface, creating a mesmerizing dance of brightness and shadow.
He leaned against the railing, inhaling deeply, trying to shake the growing emptiness that had been gnawing at him for weeks. No matter where he was on set, at a party, or even alone in his penthouse the feeling persisted, clawing at him. Tonight, surrounded by glitz and glamour, it weighed heavier than ever.
He ran a hand through his thick hair and lit another cigarette, watching the smoke curl upward into the night. His eyes drifted over the city, but his mind was elsewhere, revisiting his conversation with Sereen the night before. The empty exchange, the resignation in both of their voices. They had danced around the inevitable for months, but neither of them had the energy to pretend anymore.
As he took another drag, his phone buzzed softly in his pocket. Without thinking, he pulled it out and glanced at the screen. For reasons he couldn't quite explain, he found himself opening that conversation.
The messages from this stranger had started out like any other fan interaction, but something about them had captured his attention. The words, the tone they carried a warmth and sincerity that had been missing from his life for so long. They were simple messages, but somehow, they seemed to cut through the noise.
He scrolled through the conversation, his heart quickening unexpectedly as he read. There was something in these words that made him feel understood in a way he hadn't felt in ages. It was as if this person, this stranger, had seen past the fame and the persona to glimpse the real him.
His thumb hovered over the keyboard, itching to reply. But the same hesitation crept in. What if it was a joke? What if it was nothing? What if by answering, he shattered whatever delicate connection had been formed? His thoughts were a whirl of uncertainty, but the urge to respond was almost overwhelming.
And then, his phone buzzed again.
A new message.
His phone buzzed again in his pocket, a reminder of the countless unread messages and notifications he'd been ignoring all night. He pulled it out, and almost by instinct, he opened that conversation. His heart picked up speed as his eyes landed on the message from her. There it was, sitting innocently on the screen, but carrying more weight than anything else around him.
"Rough night. My sister just told me I don't know anything about having a life. She's probably right, but it stings. Anyway, hope you're doing better than me."
He felt his heart race, a strange sensation washing over him as he reread the words. There was something so raw and unguarded about her message. Simple, yet full of vulnerability. She wasn't asking for anything just sharing a small piece of herself, her own struggle.
For a moment, he just stared at the screen, letting the words sink in. She gets it. That was the thought that stuck with him. She understood something about life that he'd been grappling with in silence. She wasn't just another fan reaching out for a moment of his attention; she was someone trying to connect, to be seen, much like him.
He let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding, feeling a strange warmth creep through the hollow space inside him. Maybe she didn't know him, not really, but in that moment, it felt like she did. It felt like they were sharing something unspoken this mutual understanding of loneliness, of trying to figure it all out while the world spun on without you.
He began to type a response, fingers moving fast, almost out of reflex. But then, he hesitated.
What if this was all some kind of fluke? What if by responding, he made it... too real? Or worse, what if she stopped sending these messages altogether? The thought unsettled him more than he liked to admit.
He was deep in thought, the cigarette burning low between his fingers, when the balcony door slid open behind him. His assistant stepped out, her voice cutting through the quiet, pulling him out of his reverie.
Hey," she said softly, noticing his far-off look. "It's time for the big announcement."
He blinked, quickly locking his phone and sliding it back into his pocket. The ease with which he switched personas always surprised him, even now. The superstar mask slipped back into place, the vulnerability hidden once more behind a confident smile.
"Of course," he said smoothly, stubbing out the cigarette and turning to face her. The weight of the night still clung to him, but he buried it deep, like he always did. With a nod, he followed her back into the party, the noise and lights swallowing him whole.
But even as he moved effortlessly through the crowd, his mind kept drifting back to that message.
"Hope you're doing better than me."
And for the first time in a long while, he wasn't so sure he was.

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The cozy living room was bathed in the warm light of a late autumn afternoon. The rich scent of freshly brewed tea wafted through the air as Lina sat on the plush couch, cradling a delicate porcelain cup in her hands. Her mother stood by the window, idly adjusting the lace curtains, watching the leaves fall gently to the ground outside.
"Is that Ainsley?" Lina's mother said, tilting her head toward the window. "She's standing just outside."
Lina placed her teacup on the coffee table and leaned forward. "Really?" she asked, a little surprised.
"Yes, poor girl. She looks like she's been standing there for a while," her mother said softly. "Why don't you go see if she's okay?"
Lina nodded, rising from the couch and making her way to the door. As she stepped outside, she saw Ainsley standing by the gate, her arms wrapped around herself, her eyes distant and lost. The usually fiery-haired Ainsley, with her vivid red hair that seemed to radiate in any light, looked unusually small and fragile. The wind tousled her hair, making her appear even more vulnerable in that moment.
Lina approached quietly, her voice gentle. "Ains, what are you doing out here? You look freezing."
Ainsley turned her head, and for a moment, it seemed like she was trying to hold herself together. But the moment she locked eyes with Lina, the dam broke.
"Lina," Ainsley whispered, her voice cracking, "I can't do this anymore."
Without saying another word, Lina immediately guided Ainsley inside. She wrapped an arm around her and led her to the couch. Once seated, Lina handed her a cup of tea, and they sat in silence for a moment, the warm steam rising between them.
Lina watched Ainsley, concerned. "What's going on? You've been so distant lately."
Ainsley tried to take a sip of the tea but her hands were shaking, making it impossible. She set the cup down on the coffee table, her chest rising and falling as she fought to find the words.
"I—" Ainsley began, her voice thick with emotion. "I haven't told anyone, not even my mom."..

What do you think ?
What's going with Ainsley?
And what's her secret?
Please Vote and comment, more exciting chapters are coming..

See you next Sunday ...