Strong enough for this moment.
I didn't push open the door. I didn't scream or demand answers.
Even though my eyes burned and the bridge of my nose ached with the effort of holding back, I didn't allow myself a single tear.
I just stood there, very quietly, and took out my phone.
Block.
Delete.
Clear all.
Over three thousand photos together, vanishing one by one before my eyes.
Just like the five years with Noah.
Fading from memory, bit by bit.
Only when there was nothing left on my phone connected to the name "Noah Henson" did I put it away and turn to leave.
I was almost at the exit when the overseas call from director Chris Hargrove came through again.
"Rosalie, have you thought about my offer? The screenwriter seat on Riptide has your name on it. But you'd need to leave tonight. We have an emergency workshop in London tomorrow."
Every time before, I'd said no.
This time, I said yes.
By the time I took my coat from the attendant at the door, I'd already booked a three a.m. red-eye to London.
When I sent Chris the confirmation, he let out a shriek of excitement.
"Fantastic! Rosalie, you're finally willing to leave that pretty-boy boyfriend of yours. I'll arrange everything you need."
"Including our finest London gentlemen."
That got a laugh out of me.
I was about to reply when my phone was snatched from my hand.
Noah's voice exploded from above my head.
"What London gentlemen?"
I didn't answer. I just grabbed my phone back.
Noah's attention shifted instantly. He ruffled my hair and grinned.
"What's wrong, still mad I didn't propose at the Golden Dragon Awards?"
"There were reasons for that."
He pulled me into a dim corridor, resting his chin on my shoulder, trying to explain.
"Kate and I aren't just classmates. When we were kids, she actually saved my—"
Before he could finish, his phone erupted with a shrill ringtone.
The name on the screen: Kate Sullivan.
The moment he picked up, his tone shifted to something urgent.
"Okay. Stay right there. I'm on my way."
He hung up and pressed a hurried kiss to the top of my head.
"Rosalie, some creep's been harassing Kate. I'll be right back. Wait for me at home and I'll explain everything, okay?"
If he'd cared about me even a fraction more, he would have seen the London flight confirmation on my phone screen.
But he didn't.
I watched his figure shrink down the corridor until it disappeared. My hand pressed against my chest, against the sharp, stuttering ache beneath my ribs.
Home?
Since when did we have a home?
I pulled out my phone and booked a moving company on the spot.
Once my things were out of his place and back in my own apartment, I could leave for London with nothing holding me back.
I was about to lock my screen when a cascade of trending notifications popped up, all about Noah and Kate.
[BREAKING: Romance rumors surface — Best Actor spotted escorting Kate Sullivan from venue late at night]
[HOT: Pair seen sharing a car, intimate gestures, possible kiss]
My thumb froze.
I tapped the link.
In the video, the lighting was dim. Noah was shielding Kate, guiding her quickly through the crowd. She was pressed against his chest, fingers clutching the front of his jacket. And he was leaning down, his lips about to brush her forehead.
Like a knight protecting his princess.
The comments section had already erupted.
[Is this the woman Best Actor Henson thanked onstage? She's gorgeous. They look perfect together.]
[They haven't even made it official yet and I'm already obsessed with this couple.]
[What about Rosalie Pruitt? Wasn't there a rumor she's his actual girlfriend?]
[Girlfriend? Please. She's a nobody. If Noah hadn't starred in her scripts, she'd still be wandering around in obscurity. As if she's anywhere near his league.]
