Off Script

Chapter 1 - The Script That Shouldn't Have Been

The whole set seemed to pause when she entered, like the air had to adjust to her presence.

And unfortunately, her presence was heading straight toward me.

"You're the writer?" she asked, stopping in front of me.

Her voice was low, steady. Not unkind, but firm enough to make me feel like I was back in college defending a thesis I hadn't prepared for.

"Unfortunately," I said before I could stop myself.

Her lips curved, almost amused. "Your script is... interesting."

Ouch. Polite insult in a pretty package.

"Wow," I said, tightening my grip on my notebook. "That sounded like you wanted to say something else but decided to be nice instead."

To my surprise, she laughed. Really laughed. Not the airy, fake kind you hear in press junkets. This one was warm, unguarded.

"I mean it," she said. "Pero bakit walang romance? Isn't this supposed to be a rom-com?"

I rolled my eyes. "Romance is overrated. Comedy, sure. Pero love? Not necessary."

She tilted her head, studying me. Her gaze was sharp, like she could see past my sarcasm.
"What if you're wrong?" she asked.

I raised an eyebrow. "Then I guess I'll have to see it to believe it."

And that's when it happened—she smiled. Not the glossy, billboard smile, but something softer. Almost dangerous.

"Challenge accepted," she said.

And right there, I realized: this wasn't going to be just another script.

⸻

The first table read was worse than any nightmare.

I sat at the far end of the long table, my notebook open but untouched, as the cast started reading lines I thought I'd buried in my drafts folder forever.

"Love is just a side quest, not the main storyline."

My lead actor delivered it with too much gusto, parang nagmo-monologue sa Shakespeare festival. Everyone chuckled. Except me.

Elena, sitting across from me, caught my eye and smirked. She leaned slightly forward. "That line's yours, isn't it?"

I frowned. "How can you tell?"

"Because no sane writer would make a rom-com lead say that—unless she had an agenda."

The table laughed. I wanted the floor to open up and swallow me.

I scribbled something random in my notebook just to avoid her gaze. But her voice carried, smooth and playful, making sure I heard every word of her next line:

"But what if love is the main storyline... and you just don't want to admit it?"

My pen froze.

I glanced up, and there she was—Elena Reyes, national sweetheart, staring at me like she knew exactly which nerve to strike.

⸻

The first week of filming was a blur of call times, lighting adjustments, and me trying very hard not to get in anyone's way. I was a shadow in denim jackets and messy ponytails, surviving on instant coffee and the occasional banana cue from catering.

Pero kahit anong gawin ko, may pattern akong napansin: Elena had a habit of seeking me out.

During breaks, habang lahat busy sa phone nila, she'd walk over and casually drop a comment.

"Your dialogue is... tricky. It feels real."
"Were you thinking of anyone specific when you wrote that scene?"
"Do you actually believe people are better off alone?"

I'd deflect, roll my eyes, throw in a sarcastic quip. Pero deep down, each question felt like a pebble tossed into still water—rippling, unsettling.

One night, while waiting for the rain machine to be set up for a big scene, I found myself alone on a bench with her. The set lights were dimmed, crew members hurrying in the background, the sound of metal clanking as they adjusted rigs.

Elena stretched her legs, sighing. "You really don't believe in love?"

I shrugged. "I believe in attraction. Infatuation. Obsession. Pero love? The forever kind? No."

"Wow," she said softly. "That's... sad."

Something about the way she said it—not judgmental, just quietly honest—hit deeper than I expected.

For the first time in years, I didn't have a snappy comeback.

We sat in silence, the hum of the rain machine filling the space.

Then she turned to me, eyes catching the light in a way that made them almost glow. "Maybe you just haven't seen it done right."

My heart stuttered.

And before I could reply, a voice yelled, "Rain's ready! Let's roll!"

The spell broke. Crew swarmed in, Elena stood, and just like that—she was gone, swept back into the rhythm of cameras and lights.

But the echo of her words stayed.

Maybe you just haven't seen it done right.

⸻

And that was how it started. Not with thunder or fireworks, but with a challenge disguised as a smile.

For the first time in a long while, I felt something dangerous stir inside me.

Not love. Definitely not love.

But curiosity.

And maybe, just maybe—curiosity was worse.