"That person is Kate Sullivan!"
"Thank you for coming into my life. Every time I was on the verge of giving up, you gave me the courage to keep going."
The spotlight swung onto Kate.
She gasped, covering her mouth, her smile shy and radiant.
Noah's expression softened, his voice even softer.
"Welcome back, my shining star."
The audience erupted. Chants of "Get together!" rolled through the auditorium like a wave threatening to bring the house down.
Online, fans lost their minds, flooding the comments with "They're perfect for each other" and demanding to see them tie the knot.
I scrolled through the comments, then looked down at the ring box in my hand—the one I'd spent a year picking out. My nose stung.
For five years, I'd turned down every invitation from Chris, one of the top directors in the world, just to put Noah on that pedestal. I'd locked myself inside my eighty-square-foot study, crafting every role to fit him like a second skin, polishing each line word by word.
Once, I rewrote an emotional turning point for three days straight without sleep, just so one of his crying scenes would hit harder.
Everyone in the industry said Noah Henson was born lucky—that from the very start, he'd always landed scripts tailor-made for him. What they didn't know was that every soul-stirring performance that made audiences fall in love with him had been carved out of my own heart, piece by painstaking piece.
And now, at the crowning moment of his career, he'd erased the name of the person most responsible for getting him there.
Why?
He was the one who'd taken my hand first, told me to forget the past, and promised we'd build a new life together.
He was the one who'd promised to propose tonight—to make me the happiest woman alive.
I couldn't make sense of it.
When Noah and his manager, Marcus Dickerson, slipped away to the greenroom during a break, I dodged everyone and followed.
My hand had just touched the door handle.
But the voices inside reached me first.
"Noah, have you lost your mind?"
Marcus was barely keeping his anger in check.
"Three months ago, you said once you won the Golden Dragon, you'd marry Rosalie. We spent an entire month convincing the company. PR had the whole rollout mapped. The proposal, the ring—everything was ready to go."
"But up there on that stage, you didn't mention Rosalie once. Instead you brought up Kate. How do you think that makes her feel?"
A brief silence filled the room.
Noah took a drag of his cigarette, his expression half-hidden in shadow—cold and unreadable.
"Kate just went through a divorce. She's having a rough time."
"She overthinks things. If her comeback doesn't go well, she'll spiral."
"She came to me for help. All I did was throw her a bone—a little buzz, a little publicity. That's it."
Marcus stamped his foot in frustration.
"And what about Rosalie? Do you have any idea how much she's given for you over the years?"
"That new script, Gale Force—she spent a whole year on it. Every ounce of her went into that, all for you!"
"If you push her away and she leaves, then what? What are you going to do?"
Silence swallowed the room.
I stood outside the crack in the door, holding my breath, waiting for his answer.
Waiting for one reason—just one—to stay.
"She won't mind."
Noah's voice was so certain it sent a chill through me.
"She loves me. Even if I don't propose, she'll stay by my side."
My fingertips curled tighter, one knuckle at a time. My chest couldn't find air.
"Besides, she's not like Kate. She's tough. She'll understand."
As he spoke, he tore Marcus's proposal plan in half.
Then tossed it into the trash like garbage.
"The proposal can wait. Bringing it up now would steal Kate's spotlight."
The shredded paper caught the light, blindingly white.
I stood in the dim corridor.
For the first time, our five years together felt like a joke.
But he was right about one thing.
I did have a strong heart.
