SIDNEY'S POV
Rayden's behavior lately has plunged me into a whirlpool of bewilderment. It's as if he's cloaked in a shroud of secrecy, his every move a cryptic puzzle that refuses to yield its solution. Or perhaps he's orchestrating a carefully choreographed exit strategy for me from this dating show. It's a bizarre dance of motives that tugs at my curiosity, drawing me into its enigmatic embrace. His motives seem interwoven, a complex tapestry that promises revelations I can only guess at.
In his grand plan to safeguard the family's wealth, I've become a mere pawn on the chessboard of his ambitions. Like an unwanted weed in a meticulously tended garden, he's poised to pluck me out, discarding me to ensure the continual growth of his carefully cultivated prosperity. The weight of his intentions rests heavily on my shoulders, and the gravity of his machinations leaves me in awe.
And the whirlwind continues with Carson's unexpected involvement. Inviting him along wasn't an attempt to wreak havoc on Rayden's day. I refuse to wield Carson as a weapon in this complicated game, exploiting him to tip the scales in my favor. But in the labyrinth of Rayden's mind, perhaps he's woven a tale of misunderstandings around Carson's sudden appearance. I can almost see the heat radiating from him at the mere memory of Carson's unexpected presence. Carson, the master of dramatic entrances, fully embraced his role, adding layers of intrigue to this tangled web of emotions.
The night offered no solace as I lay on my bed, tossing and turning like a ship caught in a storm.
But before I could fall into slumber, my cellphone suddenly rang. It was Megan. I answered it promptly.
"Sidney!" she exclaimed, her voice carrying what seemed to be good news.
"What is it, Meg? Take a breath first, you sound way too excited there." I interjected, trying to calm down my friend who sounded like a dog chasing its own tail, judging by the heavy breathing on the other end of the line.
"I found him! I found him!"
"Who?" I asked with a puzzled frown, sitting up abruptly in bed.
"Your father! Your papa! Your dad! Your... what's the Spanish word for 'father' again?"
My jaw dropped involuntarily. I couldn't fathom how far and wide she must've searched or how many trunks she must've rummaged through or how many people she had interrogated or when she had turned into a detective capable of finding the person I'd been searching for so long. I couldn't speak immediately. It felt like my heart and soul had paused upon hearing her words.
"Sidney, this isn't a prank!" Megan insisted on the other end, undeterred.
"H—how, Meg?" I managed to stammer out.
"Remember my boyfriend, Migs?"
"Yes. What about Migs? Did he help you?"
"It's kind of like that but not really. But, no! He has relatives who are private investigators. And you know I love you, so I asked him to help find out about your mother's past relationships."
"Go on, Meg. I'm listening." I was rendered speechless.
"It seems like your mom was a one-man-woman. She had only one relationship her whole life. Every detail you told me before about who could possibly be your father, it matches the person Migs' uncle found."
My voice quivered. My heart suddenly raced. I felt like my chest was tightening with a mix of nervousness and excitement. My eyes' corners warmed up. It was like I was about to cry from the progress made in the search for my long-lost father. "C—can we talk about this in person?"
"Yes. I'll bring Migs with me. Sorry, Sid. I got excited and blurted it out over the phone. But we'll talk about this ASAP. Okay?"
"Yes, please. Thank you, Meg."
"Don't mention it. Seriously." The woman on the other end fell quiet, and I could hear a faint sniffle. "Focus on winning LOVESTRUCK, okay? Now go to sleep, it's early tomorrow."
Megan bid her goodbye. I lay back down, but my mind stayed alert for hours. A whirlwind of thoughts filled my mind: my missing father, the escalating clash with Rayden, and the chaotic world of LOVESTRUCK.
Rayden's motives danced in my thoughts like elusive fireflies, their glow captivating yet just beyond my reach. I yearned to untangle the threads of his intentions, to decipher the enigma that he's become. Amidst my restless contemplation, one truth emerged—a stark realization that I'm a mere placeholder in his grand design, a temporary stand-in chosen to fill a void. Never the leading lady, never a contender in his eyes.
Today marks the unveiling of the final five contenders—a culmination of this arduous journey. From the initial pool of ten, only half would proceed to face the daunting challenges and nerve-wracking dates orchestrated by none other than Rayden Henares—the man whose mere presence evokes both fascination and trepidation. He's the puppet master, the orchestrator of hearts, pulling strings with a calculated finesse that leaves us all in a state of romantic disarray.
As dawn's light began to pierce the darkness, I catapulted from the embrace of sleep, my heart pounding like a distant drumbeat, its rhythm a prelude to the momentous day ahead. My phone beckoned from beneath my pillow, a beacon of anticipation in the dim room. Grasping it, I fumbled to unlock its screen, casting a gentle glow that pierced the shadows. And there it was, a confirmation of my intuitions—Rayden's name, a harbinger of surprise in the form of text.
Rayden - Sat 05:03 AM: Prepare for your farewell walk
I re-read the message, my eyes widening in disbelief. His early morning missive had successfully cast a cloud over the horizon of my day. My gut, that elusive whisper of intuition, had been correct all along; he's plotting my eviction, engineering my exit from this entangled narrative. The realization was a jolt of lightning, electrifying my senses with a mix of panic and anticipation. I bit back a colorful expletive, my fingers poised to craft a response, when the phone's insistent blare reverberated through the room. The source of my torment revealed itself once more, triggering an involuntary spasm in my grip that sent my phone hurtling towards the floor. I watched in slow motion, dread coursing through me like an electric current, as it plummeted toward its potentially demise. And in a cruel twist of fate, my budget was in no shape to accommodate a replacement.
But thank the cosmos for the rugged resilience of the ancient Samsung relic, a relic I'd acquired eons ago, fueled by the bonus from my stint at the restaurant. As the fractured pieces lay scattered, they seemed to mock me, each shard a fragment of my frustration. The departing sigh of my phone, a sigh laden with melodrama, whispered its lament as if departing this world in a waft of smoke. The drama of the situation was palpable, a fleeting burst of inferno that somehow felt oddly fitting. And just like that, the theatrical blaze receded, leaving behind the aftermath of my phone's demise. A somber requiem echoed in my sigh as I mourned the passing of my technological companion.
***
The grand entrance into Cloud Studio unfolded in an artful display of tardiness, the clock marking five in the evening, a full hour past my intended call time of four. It wasn't an orchestrated entrance for the sake of drama, yet spending those intervening hours at the nearby Ministop felt like a strangely effective therapy session. The countdown to Lovestruck's commencement at seven was now in full swing.
Susana, the makeup artist extraordinaire, extended her welcome as I walked through the studio's doors, a mix of admiration and amusement in her eyes. The cast and crew had already concluded their rehearsal long before my appearance, their patience pushed to its limits. But I'd decided to savor those moments in the convenience store, embracing a semblance of serenity before the storm.
Her lips curled into a comforting smile, and she offered her gentle reassurance. "Are you all right, Sidney?" Her voice was a balm, her touch like a tender embrace as her hand settled on my arm. The compassion in her gaze was unmistakable, her intuition sensing the whirlwind of emotions that swirled beneath the surface. "You seem a bit pale."
Struggling to keep my composure, I summoned a smile that felt bittersweet. It was an uphill battle I was waging on this show, a seemingly contradictory pursuit given my disdain for it. It wasn't just about the monetary incentive, although that certainly had its allure. Rather, it was about carving out a space for myself, proving a point that transcended personal gain. The motivation ran deeper than self-interest, more profound than mere ambition.
"Hey, even the bystanders and burnouts are smitten with you," I retorted, offering a playful grin.
"That's not true!" Susana protested, her voice laced with a hint of sass. "Who knows, maybe even Mr. Rayden has a secret crush on you?"
My eyes widened at her audacity. Words hung at the tip of my tongue, but none escaped. How could her mere suggestion affect me like this? I shouldn't be pondering whether he fancies me, and yet Susana's words left me in a whirl of confusion. Is it possible?
"Miss Sidney, it's your turn!" a staff member interjected, rudely tearing me away from my thoughts.
Sylvia's panicked voice echoed from behind me. "What's going on?" Whispers rippled through the group of remaining contestants.
"Behold, an unexpected announcement from LOVESTRUCK," Simond proclaimed, his voice full of grandeur. "The online and text polls we unveiled weren't just about the Jeju Island trip winner. It was all a buildup to this secret bombshell, which we hinted at earlier in the season."
Rayden appeared genuinely taken aback. His eyes darted between the host and me, as if he already foresaw the outcome of the vote.
Instinctively, I placed my faith in the bystanders and burnouts of the street corner.