I felt a pang of regret, but at least this was just a recording.
Just as I was about to continue the interview, another staff member, wearing a mask, rushed over and called me away. They quickly replaced me with someone else.
The director’s anxious expression caught my attention and I realized there was a phone set up next to the camera I had just positioned—streaming live.
The comment section was a storm of insults:
“Bring back that woman—I have something to say, but I don’t know if I should say it.”
“Who is she? She’s obviously jealous of our Sara!”
“She can’t stand to see others happy. Maybe she’s trying to wreck their relationship—what a homewrecker!”
My face turned pale as I forced out a bitter smile.
I glanced at Patrick, hoping he would say something to defend me. But after skimming through the comments, he merely said, in a casual tone, “Don’t worry, everyone. Sara and I won’t let anything affect our relationship.”
His words struck me like a blow. I stared at him in disappointment, but he didn’t even dare to meet my eyes.
The livestream clip was soon screen-recorded by viewers and spread online, causing quite the uproar.
The director, who was on relatively good terms with me, suggested that someone involved in the situation speak up to clear my name.
Sara agreed with a cheerful smile and led me to an empty room to start a livestream. “This is our lovely photographer,” she said sweetly, pulling me into the frame.
I squirmed uncomfortably, turning my face away from the camera, clearly not used to the attention.
“Nina, say hi to everyone watching the livestream!” Sara urged cheerfully.
Though I was reluctant to appear on camera, she seemed to genuinely want to help clear things up, so I nodded and greeted the audience.
Sara smiled warmly. “Babies, you’ve misunderstood Nina. She just really likes Rick, that’s all. She doesn’t mean any harm toward me.”
Her words caught me completely off guard. Panicking, I stepped closer to her, eager to explain myself on camera.
“Ah! Nina, what are you doing?”
She let out a dramatic gasp and suddenly collapsed to the ground, conveniently ending the livestream as she fell.
It was only then that I realized—she had no intention of clearing my name.
She just wanted to make things worse.
The room fell silent, with only the two of us remaining. Sara’s innocent demeanor vanished, replaced by a cold, vicious glare.
“Nina Mercer, maybe you used to be his girlfriend, but from now on, Rick belongs to me.”
I couldn’t hold back anymore. “So you’re admitting you knowingly chose to be the third woman?”
She smirked, her voice dripping with arrogance. “The one who isn’t loved is the real third woman.”
Before I could respond, Patrick rushed into the room. Seeing Sara’s tear-streaked face, he immediately shoved me aside without a second thought.
I stumbled backward, my back slamming against a nail protruding from the wall. Pain seared through me, sharp and burning.
“You can take your anger out on me, but how could you be so cruel to Sara, such a good girl?”
His sharp gaze cut right through me. I looked at him, desperately searching for any trace of love in his eyes, but all I saw was disdain.
“Nina, you really disgust me.”
It felt like the air had been knocked out of me. After three years together, he would rather believe a stranger than even listen to my side.
If he’d just looked at me for a moment longer, I would’ve held onto the fragile hope that he still cared.
Yet, he didn’t.
It hit me then—love really can change in the blink of an eye.
The filming for the episode had wrapped up and I had no intention of staying any longer. I dragged my exhausted body back to the hotel to pack my things.
What I didn’t expect was to see two familiar figures were already standing at the hotel entrance.
I followed them quietly, watching as they held hands and walked into the hotel together. A sliver of hope still clung to me and I pulled out my phone to call Patrick.
The familiar ringtone echoed in the room, but just as quickly as it rang, the call was ended.
I took a deep breath, fighting to keep my emotions in check, forcing myself not to act on impulse.
