At eighteen, I picked up a delinquent bad boy nobody else wanted. I tried so hard, but I could never warm his cold heart. Later, his childhood sweetheart appeared. That was when I realized he did have a gentle side—just not for me. The day I let go, I lied and told him I’d be right back. And then I never returned. Seven years later, reuniting on a film set, the now A-list Oscar winner grabbed my wrist: "‘Be right back’?" "Where the hell have you been?!" 01 My palms were sweating so much they were clammy. The newly crowned Best Actor, Chase Montgomery, was standing barely fifteen feet behind me. If I turned around, we’d be face-to-face. The Assistant Director spoke up. "Chase, the next scene is your reunion with your ex. You need to show a sense of longing and reluctance to let her go." Chase let out a soft, mocking scoff. "Longing?" "You don't think it fits the scene?" the AD asked. "She's an ex. What’s there to miss?" His voice was exactly as it used to be—careless, lazy, and unrestrained. "Cece." The discussion behind me continued. I couldn't hear what the AD said next. But Chase’s cold, detached voice pierced my eardrums with crystal clarity: "My ex? I forgot about her ages ago. I don't make a habit of going back for seconds." Oh. Well, as his "seconds," I had absolutely no intention of acknowledging him either. Once the movie wrapped, we'd go our separate ways. Perfect. Just as I was comforting myself, a coworker yelled at the top of her lungs: "Cece! Did you find the props yet?!" 02 The set behind me went dead silent. I grabbed the props and sprinted away in a panic. Chase didn't chase after me. Maybe he didn't hear it. Or maybe he did, and he just didn't care. While setting up the soundstage, I pulled my coworker aside. "Next time, just call me 'C' instead of Cece." "Why? Cece is cute." "Going by an initial just sounds more professional on set." She laughed and bought the excuse. This was my first gig as a co-director. Before I joined the crew, I knew Chase was the male lead. He was Hollywood royalty, a nepo baby with half the industry's resources at his fingertips. But infuriatingly, he actually had the talent to back it up, winning an Academy Award at just twenty-five. And unluckily for him, I was his first love. I had hesitated to take the job. But I didn't want to pass up such an incredible career opportunity, so I bit the bullet. I swore to myself I would never let him spot me. If he did, I was dead meat. Because seven years ago, our breakup was incredibly ugly. I left him a letter that read: "I knew you were Hollywood royalty from the start. I only got close to you so I could sell stories about your family to the tabloids. I actually hate street punks; I like preppy, educated guys. Don't ever contact me again. Bye." As carefree as those words sounded, my actual escape was pathetic. I had no idea how Chase felt when he read that letter. But I knew he was the type to hold a grudge. If he caught me, my career in Hollywood could be blacklisted in an instant. "Chase looks even better in person than on screen. His genetics are insane," my coworker swooned. "Well, look at who his parents are. Two cinema legends. He was bound to look better than us mere mortals." "I just love his vibe! So refined and elegant. Ugh, he must have been the Golden Boy in high school, right?" I almost choked on my own spit. Chase? The Golden Boy? Dead wrong. Not only was he not the Golden Boy, he was the notorious, violent bad boy everyone avoided like the plague. I remembered him sitting on the curb in the pouring rain, bruised and battered from a street fight, looking completely lifeless. It wasn't until I walked up to him that he lifted his heavy eyelids. "Get lost." His tone back then was like a rabid dog, ready to rip me to shreds. But I didn't get lost. With trembling hands, I held my cheap floral umbrella over his head. That was how Chase and I began. I shook my head, forcing the memories out of my brain. The set was built, and we had a short break. The soundstage was too loud, so I slipped into the stairwell. The moment I pushed the heavy door open, the sharp smell of tobacco hit my nose. Chase was standing in the shadows, the glowing red cherry of his cigarette burning between his fingers. He lifted his lazy eyes and looked at me. Exactly like he did back then. 03 The stairwell was dark and suffocatingly quiet. "...Sorry, didn't mean to intrude," I muttered, keeping my head down as I turned to leave. But Chase called out, "What's your job on set?" "Co-director." "Just graduated?" "Yes." "Landing a job under Director Davis right out of film school. That's impressive." "Thank you, Mr. Montgomery." "How old are you?" "Twenty-five." He let out a low, breathy chuckle. "We're the same age, and you're calling me 'Mr. Montgomery'?" "The primary AD calls you that, and he's forty-three." "Say it again." I froze. What? I forced the words through my teeth. "Mr. Montgomery." In the dark, I couldn't see clearly, but I swore the corners of Chase's mouth curled up. It was a cold, emotionless smile. It made the hairs on my arms stand up. But I clung to hope. There was no way he recognized me. Compared to seven years ago, I was a completely different person. I went from a scrawny, malnourished beanpole to a girl people actually called pretty. Even my own relatives barely recognized me these days, let alone some guy in a pitch-black stairwell. "I'll leave you to your break, Mr. Montgomery. I'm heading back." "Wait." He stopped me again. "What's your name?" The question caught me completely off guard. 04 "Cecilia. "My name is Cecilia Evans." "Have you ever gone by any other name?" "No." Chase fell silent. A cold sweat broke out across my back. My real name used to be Ryan. I changed it later. He had lied to me back then, so I was lying to him now. We were even. During the summer before my sophomore year of high school, I found Chase on a street corner. He told me he had nowhere to go and no family. I believed him. I thought he was just an unwanted, broke kid, just like me. When I was little, my mom resented me for being a girl. When my parents divorced, they both started new families. They both had sons. Neither of them wanted me, so I was dumped in my aunt's basement apartment. I was always an incredibly obedient kid. Because if I was good, at least they would feed me. Chase and I were polar opposites. He smoked, fought, and broke every rule in the book. I was quiet, introverted, and knew nothing but studying. When sophomore year started, we ended up in the same homeroom. I sat in the very front row; he sat in the very back. No one knew what his family did. There were even rumors that he was an orphan who lived on the streets. At school, we acted like total strangers. But no one knew that every night, Chase would knock on my basement window. I would clear a small space on the concrete floor and set up a sleeping mat for him. The next morning, before my aunt's family woke up, he would leave, as if he had never been there at all. Chase constantly skipped class and always showed up covered in bruises. Every time, I was the one who applied the antiseptic. "Ryan," he would hiss, "can you be a little more gentle?" "Call me Cece." "Right. Cece." Cece was my childhood nickname, given to me by my late grandmother. I vastly preferred it over Ryan, a name born out of my mother's disappointment that I wasn't a boy. Because Chase constantly slept on my floor, I subconsciously believed he had it worse than I did. When I forgot my textbook and the teacher yelled at me, Chase walked all the way from the back of the room and slammed his textbook onto my desk. When kids from other classes bullied me and I was too timid to fight back, Chase stood in front of me and declared that I was under his protection. I thought we were two broken souls finding solace in each other. It wasn't until much later that I realized it was all a lie. Chase was Hollywood royalty. His family owned half the mansions in Beverly Hills and a fleet of sports cars. A single pair of his sneakers cost more than my entire wardrobe for the year. He was just using me to piss off his elitist family. When did I figure it out? My thoughts were interrupted. Back on set, a coworker shoved an iced matcha latte into my hands. "Blair Kensington is visiting the set again! She bought drinks for the whole crew. Look at them! The billionaire heiress and the A-list actor. They're literally a match made in heaven!" I looked toward the director's tent. Blair was currently whining, acting coy. Chase had his head tilted, listening to her patiently. Just like everyone else, I couldn't tear my eyes away from the picture-perfect scene. Suddenly, as if feeling my gaze, Chase turned his head. And looked right at me. 05 I instantly dropped my head. When I looked up again, Chase was no longer looking in my direction. Maybe it was just my imagination. Blair was still clinging to his arm. "Chase, please come to Paris with me for Fashion Week when you wrap this movie!" Her tone and inflection were exactly the same as they were seven years ago. I couldn't help but fall back into my memories. In high school, Chase and I maintained a purely platonic relationship. Until graduation. That summer, after a late-night class party, I was followed by a group of drunk street punks. Chase practically fell from the sky and beat them to a pulp. Maybe it was the relief of finally being done with high school, or maybe it was because we were finally adults. Suddenly, looking at Chase just felt... right. I gathered my courage and confessed my feelings. After that, I initiated our first time holding hands, our first hug, our first kiss... Chase was never overly passionate, but he didn't push me away either. He remained a tough, stubborn brick wall who could never utter a single romantic word. But in some ways, he was a decent boyfriend. He was always there when I called, and he was generous with his money. However, Chase never introduced me to his friends. Once, I went to a local pool hall to find him, hoping to surprise him. Instead, his face went rigid, and he snapped impatiently, "Don't ever come here again." I didn't think much of it at the time. I just thought that was his personality. Until Blair Kensington appeared. She wore designer dresses and flawless makeup. She burst into my world like a blinding spotlight. She whined and called him "Chasey." "Chasey, what are you doing in a dump like this? Where's the new Ferrari you just bought? Take me for a spin!" The word "Ferrari" nearly gave me whiplash. Blair looked at me, her eyes wide and innocent. "Chasey, who is she?" "Hi," I said. "I'm his girlfriend." "Huh? Are you joking? Why would he ever look twice at you? I'm his fiancée. Our families have an arranged marriage." "Bullshit." Chase's face went dark as he practically shoved Blair out the door. "Don't listen to her. I never agreed to the engagement." His explanation was incredibly weak. Later, when Chase's parents tracked me down, I finally learned the truth. Chase was the ultimate nepo baby. His parents controlled a massive chunk of the entertainment industry. He had a terrible relationship with them. He intentionally transferred out of his elite private prep school to a public high school just to rebel. He intentionally refused to go home. His parents were always away shooting movies and barely paid attention to him, completely unaware of the street-thug lifestyle he was living. At the end of our meeting, his father looked at me and said: "Miss Evans, you might not realize this, but Chase is incredibly rebellious. He’s only dating you to spite us. He doesn't actually love you. He's pulled stunts like this before. If you don't believe me, just watch how he treats Blair." "He loves Blair. They grew up together, he just hasn't realized his own feelings yet." "You and us... we are simply not from the same world." It felt like I had been struck by lightning. And soon enough, I realized his dad wasn't lying. Even though Chase claimed she annoyed him, he was incredibly patient with Blair. He indulged her tantrums and caved to her demands. The worst incident happened a few weeks later. Blair was actively mocking me for being poor. But the second Chase walked around the corner, her face crumpled into a mask of pure victimhood. "Chase! Ryan just shoved me into those thugs over there! I was so scared!" Chase instantly panicked. "Cece, I told you not to mess with her." Standing behind him, Blair stuck her tongue out at me in a victorious, mocking grimace. In that moment, I understood everything. Chase wasn't an unfeeling iron wall. He just didn't bloom for me. At the end of August, I accepted his parents' offer. With their financial backing, I went abroad for college. Given my background, it was likely the only chance I’d ever get at a real future. On the day I left, I told Chase I wanted to go buy some chocolate. Chase instinctively pulled out his wallet. "Buy the most expensive kind. Get some for me too." I didn't take his money. "I'll use my own. I... I'll be right back." "Yeah. I'll wait for you." And then, I never came back.
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