In the quiet morning that preceded the bustling Lovestruck taping and photoshoot, a knock echoed through the halls of my home. I had just finished washing my face, my hands still damp from the cool water. I rushed to the terrace where I knew Carson was waiting. He stood there, a solitary figure against the backdrop of the awakening day. Dressed in a semi-fit black shirt that accentuated his broad shoulders, modern-fit chino pants that hung perfectly on his frame, and sleek slip-on sneakers, he appeared effortlessly handsome. His attire was impeccable, and it seemed he had taken extra care in his appearance. Freshly showered, he radiated a sense of renewed energy.
I sensed his presence before he turned to acknowledge me. His gaze remained fixed on the distant horizon, as if he were lost in thought or contemplation. With a racing heart, I took a seat beside him, and the silence between us was palpable. The weight of unspoken emotions hung in the air, creating a tense atmosphere.
Summoning courage, I greeted him, my voice carrying a tentative quality. "H-hi."
He inhaled sharply, as if coming up for air after being submerged in deep contemplation. His eyes flickered towards me momentarily before returning to their distant focus. "Hi," he replied softly, his tone carrying an undercurrent of emotion that hinted at thoughts left unsaid.
There was something in the way he spoke that left me wondering if there was more to his greeting than met the eye.
"You didn't return after that night. We haven't seen each other for over a week," I ventured, my voice betraying a mix of emotions – curiosity, concern, and a hint of vulnerability.
His exhale held a hint of weariness, and his gaze flitted briefly to me before returning to the horizon. "I had to be away. And I got busy," he replied, the words sounding almost rehearsed as if he had convinced himself of their validity.
A heavy silence settled between us, pregnant with unspoken thoughts and unresolved tensions.
He seemed to wrestle with his words, as if grappling with the right way to express himself. Finally, he spoke, his tone tinged with self-mockery. "Mom's in Malaysia. I might join her there. I don't know when I'll be back."
His announcement struck me with a mixture of surprise and unease. It was as if he was subtly hinting that he might not return, leaving an invisible ache in my chest. "W-When? How long are you planning to stay there?"
"After this semester. I don't know. Maybe I'll just visit here occasionally. I need time to gather myself," he replied, his tone serious, his words laden with an unspoken weight that left me breathless.
"Why?" I found myself asking, my voice trembling slightly as I struggled to keep my emotions in check.
"What do you mean, why?" he replied with an air of nonchalance, yet there was a flicker of something deeper in his eyes.
"Why are you leaving? You know your life is here."
"I have no reason to stay. Maybe it's the right thing to do. And it's been part of the plan anyway, even before I met you."
"Is that all?" My voice quivered with a mix of bitterness and disappointment.
He hesitated, his gaze shifting away from me as he struggled to find the right words. "Yes."
"Liar." The word slipped from my lips like a gasp, a sudden rush of emotions threatening to engulf me. "I'm sorry. I'm sorry I did this to you."
He sighed heavily, his exhale carrying a tremor of emotions that seemed to ripple through the air between us. He lowered his head, his voice soft as he finally spoke, "You would always choose Rayden over me. You would always choose him, even if I were to double myself."
I gasped, the weight of his words settling like a heavy stone in my chest. It was a painful truth, one I couldn't deny. There was a part of me that yearned for a rewind button, a chance to change my heart's allegiance. At times, I wished I could reprimand my own heart for its seemingly misguided devotion. Why couldn't I bring myself to love him? Why did my heart insist on reserving its most vulnerable parts for Rayden?
"It's okay. Love is a war, they say. There's a victor and there's one who falls," he said, trying to muster a smile that barely concealed the underlying sadness in his eyes. He turned to face me fully, his expression a portrait of conflicting emotions – a mixture of tenderness, resignation, and a tinge of longing. His gaze seemed to trace every contour of my face, as if committing it to memory. "Have you been okay?"
I struggled to summon a smile that could reassure him, but the weight of the world seemed to rest upon my shoulders, evident in the sorrow that still lingered in my eyes. His stare was both comforting and unsettling, like a gentle touch that stirs the dormant emotions within.
"I've been trying. I have to. But, Carson, we found him."
"Who?" he asked, his confusion evident in his furrowed brows. His gaze locked onto mine, an attempt to decipher the turmoil of emotions that played across my features.
"My father," I whispered, the words carrying the weight of revelations that had yet to fully surface. I drew my knees close to my chest, a feeble attempt to shield myself from the storm of emotions his presence had unleashed.
He continued to gaze at me, his eyes widening slightly in surprise. He seemed to swallow hard, grappling with his own emotions. "Have you met him?"
I shook my head, my voice barely audible. "He used to be wealthy. Then he became involved with the Henarez family, but he suffered losses and eventually sold his shares for reasons that remain shrouded in mystery."
"I know," he replied, his eyes shifting away from my face as if grappling with his own inner thoughts.
"What do you mean, Carson? What do you know?" I pressed, my voice trembling with a mixture of shock, anticipation, and anxiety.
He seemed to wrestle with his own inner turmoil, his throat tightening as he struggled to find the right words. "I've been investigating about your father too. I'm sorry for keeping this from you, but I wanted to be certain before sharing what I've learned."
"You actually did that?"
His expression shifted, a blend of concern and apology etched upon his features. It was a genuine concern, an effort to bridge the gap between us and help me uncover the truth. "I became curious about you. About your mom. So, I delved into it. I wanted to help you."
"So, what have you discovered about the Henarez family and my father, Carson?"
He leaned back against the sofa, his chest rising and falling with each labored breath. He wet his lips, as if seeking solace in the simple act before speaking. "I haven't gathered much about his abrupt departure. I'm sorry, Sidney. I'm still in the process of unraveling the mystery, much like you. From what I understand, your father went into hiding after your mother's death. Perhaps the loss was too much for him to bear, prompting him to distance himself and mourn in solitude. But who knows what truly transpired?"
"Unless I meet him and ask him," I whispered, a mixture of determination and vulnerability weaving through my words. The memories of my mother's tragic fate resurfaced, gripping my heart with a vice-like intensity.
"Everything is a whirlwind, Carson. With Vicente's situation and the chaotic spectacle that is Lovestruck, I'm unsure if I can navigate through this storm unscathed."
"You won't be alone in this. I promise," he reassured me, his touch gentle as he tapped my back, offering a semblance of comfort amidst the tempest of emotions that raged within me.
"I was on the path to forgetting and moving forward. All I sought was the consolation prize, stepping in for Meg. But then everything crumbled. Now, I'm unsure if I can calm the tempest that destiny has unleashed."
"I believe you can. Remember the girl who captivated the world in her black dress. Rediscover her," he urged, his voice a beacon of encouragement amidst the chaos that surrounded us.
I nodded, my eyes welling up with warmth. I couldn't help the tears that threatened to escape the corners of my eyes. Moving closer to Carson, I embraced him tightly. Without saying a word, my heart whispered the sentiment I couldn't articulate – "I'm sorry."
He held me close, his arms a comforting shield against the world's uncertainties. His warmth enveloped me, soothing the ache within. "It's okay. You're not at fault. Love and pain are intertwined, Sid. I know it's going to be tough, but even through the hardships, I'll still be here for you. I can be your friend."
As we released each other from the embrace, a faint sense of relief washed over me. Taking a deep breath, I steadied my emotions. I didn't want to break down in front of him.
"So, what's the plan?" he asked, a touch of casualness in his tone. He leaned against the terrace, his muscular arms casually crossed.
"I'll finish what I've started with Lovestruck. Then, I'll try to move forward. I can't let myself become bitter and defeated, especially if I don't show up. The show's management might sue me," I replied with a hint of determination.
"Are you absolutely sure about this?" His concern was evident in his eyes.
I nodded, my resolve solidifying with each passing moment.
"Has he reached out to you? Have you heard his explanations?" he inquired, his voice tinged with a mix of curiosity and genuine concern.
"I've been waiting for him to call or even meet me," I admitted, my frustration evident in my furrowed brows. "But he never bothered to explain."
He held my gaze, his expression pensive. For a few moments, he seemed to struggle with his thoughts before finally speaking again. "I can't leave you like this, Sid. I'll support you through this."
His words hit me like a punch to the heart, a jolt of emotion surging through me. Guilt gnawed at me even more. He was hurting, and yet, he was willing to endure more pain to be there for me.
"What have I done to deserve you?" I whispered, my voice filled with gratitude and wonder.
"Maybe we were allies in a past life?" he quipped, a hint of a smile tugging at his lips.
I chuckled, the tension between us momentarily easing. We both knew that the journey ahead wouldn't be easy. There would be bitterness and pain waiting for us. But knowing that Carson was by my side brought me a glimmer of hope.
"Thank you, Carson."
As the day progressed, I found myself standing in front of Cormi Studio, dressed in a white short-sleeved crewneck t-shirt paired with an earth-toned plaid miniskirt. The studio was abuzz with activity, with preparations for a test photoshoot underway. The test shoot was a part of the experimentation process and would also contribute to the promotional materials and billboards for the upcoming Lovestruck Grand Finale.
Nervously, I entered the studio, accompanied by Meg, Migs, and Carson. They were there to support me despite their initial objections to my plans. They remained in the holding area while I headed to the dressing room.
Inside, I found the three Roses – Isabel, Cess, and Michelle – busy preparing. They greeted me with smiles as I walked in, taking a seat in an armchair that had been arranged for me.
The four of us shared a dressing room, a temporary sanctuary amidst the hustle and bustle of the studio. Meanwhile, Sylvia – the last Rose – had her own dressing room and makeup artist, a testament to her favored position among the contenders. She was, after all, the apparent front-runner in this love story orchestrated for the cameras.
Before long, the creative director and the director of photography, Mr. Valdez, entered the room. Their seasoned appearances carried an air of authority, and their strict demeanor was evident in the way they carried themselves.
"Each of you will have five frames each for the shoot. Five solo shots and five with Mr. Henares. Make the most of them," Mr. Valdez instructed, his tone leaving no room for misunderstandings.
"Sir, I thought it was ten frames each?" Cess asked, a hint of surprise in her voice as she mentioned the initial briefing.
"That's no longer the case. Are you not confident you can capture a good shot in just five frames?" the creative director responded sharply, his tone a reminder of the competitive nature of the show.
Silence hung in the air, a reminder of the stakes we were facing. Sylvia, of course, would enjoy unlimited frames during the shoot – a privilege earned by her seemingly favored status. I couldn't blame her for taking advantage of every opportunity to look her best. After all, the one who would capture Rayden's heart on the grand finale would be declared the ultimate victor.
The staff began to call for us, and one by one, the Roses entered the set. Cess went first, followed by Michelle and Isabel. After a quick outfit change, it was my turn. Dressed in a red flowy dress with a high slit, I walked onto the set with a mixture of anticipation and tension.
Meg, Migs, and Carson cheered me on as I approached the garden-themed set, which was bathed in the warm glow of umbrella lights. The studio had been transformed into a garden paradise, with vibrant red roses adorning every corner. Cameras and strobe lights were strategically positioned to capture the perfect shot.
A showbiz correspondent was stationed to the side, capturing the behind-the-scenes moments of the shoot. Some of the staff members were gathered on the right side of the set, including Isabel, Cess, and Michelle. The assistants and road managers stood at the back, with Meg among them, offering support and encouragement.
My attention was momentarily drawn to a pair standing in the corner – Rayden and Sylvia. They were deliberately separated from the group, projecting an image of sweetness and compatibility to anyone who cared to look. It was a clear attempt to manipulate public perception, painting a rosy picture that couldn't be farther from the truth. It was a classic example of presenting a façade to counteract unfavorable realities.
"Rayden! With Sidney," the creative director's voice called out, interrupting my thoughts.
I noticed Rayden standing by Sylvia's side, and she didn't look pleased by our interaction. Her eyes bore into mine, as if challenging me. I met her gaze with an arched eyebrow, unbothered by her attempts to intimidate me.
Summoning all my professionalism, I walked toward the set where Rayden stood, dressed in a black single-breasted tailored fit suit with a red undershirt. His eyes were fixed on me as I approached, and my heart fluttered despite my best efforts to remain composed.
The creative director signaled the start of the shoot, and Rayden's arms gently encircled me from behind. I followed the director's instructions, shifting my posture to create an elegant angle as I looked back at Rayden. It was a delicate dance of positioning and expression, a portrayal of a romantic connection that was anything but.
"This is the first frame, everyone!" Mr. Valdez's voice echoed through the studio.
Rayden's voice, almost a whisper, reached my ears as we stood together. "Sid, I know you're angry, but I'm trying to make things right."
His touch and his words intertwined, creating a strange mix of comfort and tension. I felt the warmth of his body against mine, his presence a reminder of the complicated web of emotions that entangled us. Despite everything, I couldn't help but remember the times when we were close, when the world seemed a bit brighter.
"Pose for the second frame!" Mr. Valdez's directive snapped me back to reality.
I shifted my stance again, allowing Rayden's arms to rest gently on my waist, his touch feather-light. We exchanged glances, our eyes locking in a silent exchange that held the weight of unspoken words. In that fleeting moment, a whirlwind of emotions passed between us – anger, regret, longing.
As the shoot progressed, Rayden and I moved through the poses, our bodies close yet emotionally distant. His presence was both a comfort and a source of frustration, a constant reminder of the complexities that bound us together. Through each frame, I couldn't shake the feeling that we were caught in a twisted performance, a love story manufactured for the cameras.
"Final frame, everyone! Make it count!" Mr. Valdez's voice cut through the air.
For the last frame, Rayden held me closer, his arms wrapping around me possessively. I shifted my gaze to the camera, my expression a mixture of vulnerability and determination. In that moment, the tension between us was palpable – a blend of conflicted emotions that neither of us could fully express.
As the final frame was captured, the set came to life with applause and cheers from the crew. I extricated myself from Rayden's embrace, a sense of relief washing over me. The shoot was over, but the storm of emotions within me raged on.
The day had been a rollercoaster of emotions, a test of resilience against the backdrop of a carefully orchestrated reality. As I walked away from the set, I couldn't help but wonder what the future held – not just for me, but for all of us entangled in this grand spectacle of love and competition.