I let out a sigh as I prepared myself for the final outdoor taping of Lovestruck. This time, I could feel my "game face on" mode kicking in – the ability to hide personal feelings and project a happy aura in front of the camera. With every smile and transformation into different characters, I seemed like an expert at putting on a façade.
The days had passed without Rayden and I crossing paths since our conversation in the studio. No chance to talk, no chance to clear things up. And with each passing day of silence, the pain in my heart grew even deeper. It was as if his absence had created a massive void that I couldn't successfully fill.
Amidst my appearances on various Cloud TV shows, the pain I felt continued to flourish. In front of the camera, I was a skilled actress, breathing life into every scene and channeling the required emotions as directed. Everywhere I went, no one noticed the pain except for Carson, Meg, and her boyfriend.
Rayden seemed uninterested in whatever I was going through. He never asked if I was okay or how I was holding up. He didn't even bother with simple inquiries or expressions of concern. It was as if I was just a part of his past that he wanted to forget.
Just like any other day, I emerged for the taping of 'The Late Night Show with Aileen Sanchez'. In front of the camera, I smiled and laughed at Aileen's jokes. But behind that smile, the ache from events I didn't know how to deal with still lingered.
No matter how hard I tried to pretend, acting couldn't overpower real emotions. With each quip from Aileen, with each laughter from the audience, it was as if I was distancing myself further from a world where Rayden existed. Amidst the joy and entertainment, I felt my heart shattering.
Days went by, and finally, I found myself at the last segment of Lovestruck's taping. The biggest part of this show was contributing to a charity organization. In every episode, the winner's prize was directed towards a chosen charity. For me, the organization I selected to receive the prize was the "Home for the Lost Angels," a shelter for parentless children.
Among the orphans, I felt a unique sense of family. Despite the burdens they carried, those were replaced with the strength of companionship and love for one another. This was the inspiration that fueled me in the midst of challenges.
As the taping progressed, it felt like I was alongside the children in every scene. I wondered how I could share the prize with them, how I could be an instrument for their hope and future. In front of the camera, I wasn't just pretending; I became an integral part of the story I was portraying.
As the taping went on, my emotions intensified. I envisioned the dreams of the children one by one, drawing inspiration from them in every scene. With each take, I gave it my all, not just for Lovestruck, but also for the kids who relied on the charity's help.
And as the taping came to an end, I felt a mix of sadness and joy. I didn't know what would happen to me and the love I was fighting for. But in the eyes of the orphaned children, I saw hope. Amidst it all, I saw a flicker of light.
Leaving the set, I held onto the promise I'd planted in my heart – that no matter what, I'd continue fighting for my dreams and for those who dreamed of a better future.
***
As we approached the entrance of the orphanage, it was like stepping into a scene from a medieval kingdom. The madre superior stood there, radiating authority like she was ready to knight someone with a ladle. She'd obviously been having friendly chats with the Lovestruck crew, given her willingness to open the doors of this charity fortress.
For a fleeting instant, it was as if the burdens on my shoulders were swapped with helium balloons. The sight of those kids' grinning faces was like a dose of laughter therapy. Suddenly, being the "Last Rose" felt less like a role and more like a chance to light up these little hearts with hope.
And who knows, if Rayden chose me, it might be a sign he'd rebuilt bridges with his own tribe of relatives.
So, without further ado, I plunged into the kid-induced whirlpool of playtime. I was in the thick of tag games and peekaboo battles, proving to be a playmate worthy of every chuckle. The nuns were spectators to this symphony of fun, probably thinking they had a case of adult-onset craziness in their midst. The VTR recording clocked in more minutes than a feature-length film, capturing our escapades with cinematic glee.
Leaving the orphanage was like walking away from a vibrant carnival. The crew buzzed around, fixing hair, adjusting mics, and fighting over the last crumbs of craft services. Amid this organized chaos, Sylvia stood at the entrance like she was born to be a statue at a snobby art gallery. She greeted me with the kind of raised eyebrow that could qualify as an Olympic sport.
"Ah, Sylvia, you've managed to perfect the art of lurking," I remarked, offering my best sitcom-worthy grin.
Her sigh was audible enough to compete with a monsoon. "Sidney, I've perfected the art of not caring. But here I am, just for kicks."
With a theatrical flourish, I patted an invisible tear from my eye. "Oh, Sylvia, you're really spoiling me with your presence."
She looked at me with a look that said, "You're unbelievable." But I was the reigning champion in the category of not letting things get to me.
"So, what's the drama du jour?" I asked, propping an imaginary director's chair for myself.
"I need you to consider quitting the show," she declared, her tone as serious as a cat refusing to chase a laser pointer.
I took a moment to let that sink in, as if I was pondering whether to switch to decaf. "Hmm, interesting proposition. But here's the thing: I'm under a contract with Lovestruck. It's like a legally binding friendship bracelet."
She didn't seem impressed by my analogy. "Oh, is it a contract or a lifeline to Rayden?"
I almost laughed at that, caught in her web of snarkiness. "Oh Sylvia, if only life were that simple."
"If only you made it simple, Sidney. Quit before you mess it up more."
I tilted my head, mockingly contemplative. "Quit... or, you know, not. Decisions, decisions."
She sighed dramatically. "Decisions, Sidney. You have no idea what a coherent decision feels like."
Touché. "Well, I'm working on that. Slow and steady, you know."
Sylvia rolled her eyes, her exaggerated theatrics deserving of a standing ovation. "Slow and steady won't win you this one, Sidney."
I arched an eyebrow, striking my best contemplative pose. "But you see, Sylvia, slow and steady is my brand. And if you can't handle it, well, tough cookie."
She gave a dramatic huff, as if she'd been personally victimized by my stubbornness. "You're impossible."
"Nah, I prefer the term 'professionally quirky'," I quipped, winking as if I'd just cracked the world's funniest joke.
Sylvia shook her head, her bemusement making a cameo appearance. "You're something else, Sidney."
And just like that, the curtain fell on our impromptu comedy show, leaving me curious about what other punchlines life had in store.
"Not impossible, just a demon of your nightmares, haunting your every move," I shot back, a glint of mischief in my eyes before I aimed a playful jab at her eye.
She let out a surprised yelp as my fist made contact.
The punch was more impactful than I intended, sending her staggering back and tumbling to the ground like a marionette with cut strings.
But what came next wasn't part of the script. I saw blood on her legs, and she looked more shocked than vengeful.
"Oh my..." She gasped, her hand flying to her mouth. Tears welled up, tracing paths down her cheeks.
I stepped back, the comedic scene turning all too real. This wasn't some over-the-top play; this was a sudden collision of theatrics and genuine emotions.
I was frozen, the press firing questions, cameras flashing. It was like all the chaos had been bottled up inside me, leaving me unable to breathe.
"Sidney! Sidney!" Susana's voice cut through the noise.
Turning towards her, I was met with a wall of camera flashes. I couldn't even spot Susana. She was my lifeline out of this mess. Guilt weighed heavily, knowing that my actions had dragged her into this storm.
"Sidney will talk when she's ready! Can you give her some space, for crying out loud?" Meg's voice joined in, a beacon of sanity amidst the madness.
"Back off, you vultures! Let my niece breathe! She needs space, not a circus around her!" Aunt Iya's voice boomed, her daughters Cynthia and Margo standing strong beside her.
Tears blurred my vision. Their presence was a mix of comfort and pain, family caught in the crossfire of my own drama.
"Let's get you out of here, Sidney. Let's go home."
Aunt Iya's words wrapped around me like a warm blanket. Suddenly, I realized I wasn't alone. My family was still here, unwavering.