The day of the interview arrived with a buzz of anticipation. LuxLife had spared no expense, renting out a sleek, modern studio in downtown Los Angeles. The space was filled with gleaming glass panels, bright white furniture, and a team of producers, stylists, and camera operators moving like clockwork to ensure everything was perfect.
Vivien arrived first, as usual, her punctuality as much a part of her brand as her flawless outfits. She wore a tailored cream blazer over a soft lavender blouse, her makeup understated but impeccable. As she stepped into the studio, the hum of activity momentarily paused. Heads turned, whispers passed, and Vivien felt the weight of their expectations settling on her shoulders.
"Vivien! Over here," called a familiar voice. It was Chloe, clipboard in hand, already in full assistant mode.
Vivien smiled faintly, letting Chloe guide her toward the dressing area. She was focused, determined to approach the interview with professionalism and grace. The emotions that had roiled in her since Santorini were firmly locked away—at least for now.
---
Ren walked in twenty minutes later, his usual easy confidence tempered by a hint of tension. He wore a dark navy suit, the tie casually loosened, his hair tousled in a way that looked effortlessly intentional.
"Ren!" one of the producers called, waving him over to his designated area.
"Morning," he said, flashing a polite smile as he shook hands and exchanged pleasantries. But his gaze flicked around the room, searching for Vivien.
When he spotted her sitting in the corner, her posture rigid as she scrolled through her phone, he hesitated. She looked composed, untouchable even, and he wondered if she'd even want to see him before the cameras started rolling.
---
"Ren," a voice interrupted his thoughts. It was Kira, clipboard in hand. "Focus. You've got about ten minutes before they want you on set."
He nodded, but his gaze lingered on Vivien for another second before he turned away. He knew better than to approach her now.
Vivien, meanwhile, had been acutely aware of Ren's arrival. She hadn't looked up when he entered, but the room had shifted, a subtle change in energy that she couldn't ignore. She felt his presence like a gravitational pull, but she refused to let it distract her.
Just get through this, she told herself.
---
The set was designed to mimic an intimate living room, with plush white chairs and a glass coffee table in the center. Vivien and Ren were seated side by side, cameras positioned to capture every angle. The interviewer, a polished woman with a warm smile, sat across from them, her notepad resting on her lap.
"Welcome, Vivien and Ren," the interviewer began, her tone cheerful but professional. "First of all, congratulations on the incredible success of the LuxLife campaign. The world can't stop talking about it."
"Thank you," Vivien said, her smile measured and polite.
"Yeah, it's been pretty wild," Ren added, his grin more relaxed but tinged with something softer.
The interviewer leaned forward, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "The campaign was marketed as 'Unfiltered Romance.' Tell me, how did you two create such authentic chemistry on camera?"
Vivien hesitated for the briefest moment, but Ren jumped in first.
"Well," he said, his tone light but sincere, "I think a lot of it comes down to trust. We might have started as… let's say rivals, but over time, we learned how to work together and play to each other's strengths."
Vivien nodded, picking up where he left off. "It was definitely a process. There were challenges—like any collaboration—but I think what made it work was our shared commitment to the project. We both wanted it to feel real."
Her words were polished, professional, but Ren couldn't help noticing the slight edge in her tone.
---
As the interview progressed, the air grew thicker, each question chiseling away at the polished façade Vivien and Ren had spent months perfecting. The lights overhead felt harsher now, hotter, as if they were trying to illuminate the truths neither was willing to speak aloud.
"Vivien, there's been so much speculation about your relationship with Ren," the interviewer said, her tone equal parts curiosity and charm. Her smile was warm, but her gaze sharp, hunting for cracks. "Fans are calling you two the ultimate 'enemies to lovers' story. How do you feel about that?"
Vivien's smile didn't falter—not visibly, at least. But there was a flicker in her eyes, a microexpression so fleeting it would've gone unnoticed by anyone who didn't know her well. Annoyance? Uncertainty? It was hard to pin down.
She straightened subtly in her chair, her posture immaculate, her words measured. "I think people love a good story," she said, the polished ease of her tone betraying none of the tension coursing through her. "And while it's flattering that they see us that way, Ren and I are professionals first and foremost. The campaign was about authenticity, and that's what we focused on."
Her voice was steady, but Ren caught the slight edge beneath it, the guardedness she always wielded when someone got too close. He tilted his head as he watched her, not speaking yet, but cataloging the slight shifts in her expression. He knew her well enough to see the difference between her practiced charm and her truth—and right now, she was firmly in defense mode. The walls she'd rebuilt since Santorini were higher than ever.
The interviewer turned her attention to him now, her predatory gaze landing like a spotlight. "And what about you, Ren?" she asked, leaning in slightly. "Do you think there's truth to the 'enemies to lovers' narrative?"
Ren hesitated, a flicker of something unspoken flashing in his eyes. His gaze flicked to Vivien for the briefest moment—a glance so quick that it could've been interpreted as accidental. But it wasn't. Her composure, her distance, her ability to keep him at arm's length—it all struck him harder than he cared to admit.
"I think there's truth in the idea that people can surprise you," he said finally, his tone thoughtful, deliberate. "Sometimes the people who challenge you the most are the ones who leave the biggest impact."
The words hung between them like a weight, more revealing than he had intended. The interviewer smiled, clearly pleased with his response, but the tension between him and Vivien was palpable. Vivien didn't look at him—wouldn't look at him—but the tightness in her jaw betrayed the effort it took to keep her focus on the interviewer instead.
The conversation moved on, but the energy in the room remained charged, a current of unspoken words buzzing just beneath the surface.
---
As soon as the cameras stopped rolling, Vivien was on her feet. She moved with purpose, smoothing her blazer as though brushing away the invisible weight of the past hour. Her heels clicked against the polished floor as she headed for the dressing area, her face composed but her pulse thrumming.
Ren watched her go, his brow furrowed. She was too good at this, he thought—too good at shutting things down before they had the chance to breathe. He rose from his chair, muttering a polite "thank you" to the crew as he followed her.
He caught up with her just as she reached the dressing area. "Vivien," he said, his voice low, careful.
She paused, her hand on the doorframe, before turning to face him. Her expression was calm, but her eyes betrayed her exhaustion. "What is it, Ren?"
He hesitated for half a second before speaking. "I just… I wanted to say you handled that well," he said, his usual confidence tempered by something quieter, more vulnerable.
"Thank you," she replied, her tone polite but distant, as if his words were no more than background noise.
Ren's jaw tightened. He glanced away briefly, his hand brushing the back of his neck—a tell she had learned to recognize during their months working together. "Look," he began, his voice dropping further, "I know things have been complicated. But if you ever want to talk—really talk—I'm here."
For a moment, her guard wavered. Her gaze softened, something unspoken flashing in her eyes. But just as quickly, she straightened her shoulders, pulling herself back together.
"I appreciate that, Ren," she said, her voice quieter now, almost gentle. "But right now, I think it's best if we both focus on our own paths."
Her words were a carefully constructed wall, one that left no room for argument. Ren wanted to push, to ask her what had changed since Santorini, to ask if she felt the same pull he did every time they were in the same room. But he didn't.
"Right," he said finally, stepping back. "If that's what you want."
Vivien nodded, her expression softening for just a second. "It is."
Without another word, she turned and disappeared into the dressing room, the door clicking shut behind her.
---
Ren stood there for a long moment, the hum of the studio around him fading into the background. He stared at the closed door, his hands shoved into his pockets, the weight of her words settling heavily on his chest.
Complicated. That's what she had called it. It felt too simple a word for something that had consumed him more than he wanted to admit.
Inside the dressing room, Vivien leaned against the door, her head tilted back as she exhaled slowly. She could still feel the way he had looked at her, the quiet frustration in his eyes. She hated that it affected her—that he affected her.
But she couldn't let herself go back to that place. Not now. Not when she had worked so hard to rebuild the distance between them.
Still, as she looked at herself in the mirror, her reflection seemed almost foreign. The perfect blazer, the polished smile, the lavender blouse—all pieces of a carefully curated image. But beneath it, she felt raw, unfinished.
For Ren, the walk back to his car felt longer than usual. The sunlight outside was harsh, making him squint as he stepped onto the street. He pulled out his phone, scrolling aimlessly, anything to distract himself from the echo of her voice.
Some things are better left unsaid.
Maybe she was right. But it didn't make it hurt any less.