Chapter 6: Scars, Ointment, and the Truth

“Savvy, are you Savannah?”

A frail boy from the next table comes over.

A fan?

I glance at the camera—the crew is off eating in front.

“Can I shake your hand too?”

“Sure, but we’re filming.”

I smile and reach out.

“That’s why I want to—while you’re filming.”

He grabs my hand, his face twisting with rage.

“Die, bitch! How can you, a fame-chasing whore, date my idol? You’re not worthy! I’ve done so much for him! Without me, he wouldn’t be here! Why you? Die!”

He pulls out a thermos, aiming to pour hot water on my face.

Panic floods my mind. I can’t dodge in time.

I’m done for.

But the next second, someone pulls me down, chair and all, shielding me.

Jesse holds me tight, nearly crushing my shoulders.

He’s breathing hard, matching my heartbeat.

Luckily, he’s quick—only his shoulder gets splashed.

The boy is quickly restrained by the cameramen and the police are called.

Even after scalding Jesse, the boy keeps screaming obscenities.

“Idol! How could you betray your fans? Without us, you’d be nothing! How dare you date this whore? Don’t you care about your career? Don’t you care about us?!”

Jesse says nothing, just holds me close, covering my ears with his warm, dry hand.

As my senses return and my heart slows, I shove him away.

“Are you crazy? Are you trying to get yourself killed? You can’t just take boiling water like that!”

He meets my tearful eyes, stunned for a moment, then tries to joke.

“So you do care about me.”

“You’re insane!”

From the other room, his agent is laying into him: “You’re an idol! You can’t get hurt at all, don’t you get that?”

“Keep your voice down, you’ll scare her.”

“Look at you, throwing yourself away!”

“Come on, bro, can’t you rein it in?” His agent is exasperated. “How many times have I told you? Can you tone down the way you look at her? We’ve had to cut out so many of your shots. Even the dogs on the street can sense your feelings.”

“I never planned on turning back when I agreed to this show,” Jesse says, voice calm and steady. “She’s my destination.”

I sit in the living room, not daring to move.

Can someone please tell them? This place isn’t soundproof.

“You’re lying—this didn’t start with the show. You’ve been obsessed since you first saw her at the music awards seven years ago…”

His agent’s voice fades out, and soon I can’t hear anything.

Ten minutes later, his agent finally comes out, treating me with extra care.

“Scared you, huh? Don’t worry, it’s nothing. Stuff like this happened even more abroad—chasing cars was normal, and seven years ago, a fan even hid under a bed.

“Don’t let it get to you. Just rest up.”

After seeing him out, I turn to see Jesse, clutching his shoulder, coming out of the room.

“Jesse.”

He grunts in reply, scratching his head and blushing as he avoids my gaze.

“I’m going to shower.”

He disappears into the bathroom.

I rummage through the bag—his agent brought a bunch of ointments.

I read the instructions carefully, glancing at the camera.

Will they air this?

I’ve always known how scary obsessive fans can be. From the day I married Harrison, I started preparing myself mentally.

But when it actually happened, I couldn’t react at all.

“Savannah.”

Jesse draws out my name, a hint of playful whining.

“What?”

I go to the bathroom door, separated by a cloud of steam, the scent of oak and warmth drifting out.

He opens the door, hair still wet.

He points to the burn on his shoulder.

“Can you put the ointment on? I can’t reach.”

I gesture for him to come out to the bright living room, but he pulls me in instead, closing the door behind us.

Alone in the steamy bathroom, I feel my face heating up, unable to look at him directly.

“Let’s do it outside.”

“It’s cold.”

He’s got a point—his tone is steady, but I’m the one with a guilty conscience.

It’s just ointment.

“Turn around.”

He does as told.

I gently dab the ointment with a cotton swab.

“It’s itchy.”

His voice is like ripples in a quiet spring night.

“I haven’t even started yet,” I mutter.

“I meant your breathing.”

I’m leaning in close.

I squeeze out too much ointment, getting it on my fingers.

Cool and slick.

Hurry up, just get it done.

But then I realize—he’s so much taller than me, I have to stand on tiptoe to reach his shoulder. But then I’m unsteady, need to hold onto something.

My eyes flick over his muscular arm, then his slim waist. Nope, can’t grab him.

I hold my breath. I can’t do it. He should just do it himself.

“Jesse.”

“Yeah?”

His voice is muffled.

“I can’t reach. You do it…”

Before I finish, he turns and lifts me onto the sink.

He puts his dry robe between me and the cold marble, so my legs won’t get chilled.

But my ears are burning.

I hope he doesn’t look at me.

He doesn’t. Just turns his back.

Now, the burn on his shoulder is right in front of me.

I didn’t realize it was this bad. My heart aches.

“Your agent’s right. We should just fake it—don’t make it too real, or your fans…”

“Are you faking?”

My hand pauses.

Something I don’t want to say is about to slip out, but I swallow it down.

“What else would I be doing?”

His back tenses.

The warmth from my fingers seems to set off sparks.

My mouth moves before my brain can stop it, like a defense mechanism.

“What, you want to make it real? Isn’t this show all about mutual benefit, just putting on a show?”

The air turns icy.

He puts on his shirt, not caring if the ointment smears, pulls the swab from my hand, and tosses it in the trash.

“Get some rest.”

I’m scared. Scared of getting hurt again. Scared this is a game I’m the only one taking seriously.

In the second episode, the producers give Harrison a special badge: “SavvyJesse Ship Fan #1.”

As the ‘SavvyJesse’ couple hashtag tops the charts, the Harrison doll sells out, becoming the must-have for fans.

As the ‘SavvyJesse Couple’ supertopic tops the charts, the Harrison doll sells out, becoming the must-have for fans.

Wherever Riley goes, people ask if she has any left, if she can spare one.

She grits her teeth and smiles.

It’s killing her.

Sometimes, someone with no filter will say, “Hey, how come she’s gotten more popular since leaving you?”

Every week she comes to the studio, gets the cold shoulder from Harrison, and every time she thinks about the millions she spent on marketing, she wants to slap herself.

Not only did she waste all that money boosting the show, she handed me a golden opportunity.

And because she promised to have Harrison as a regular guest, she doesn’t even get paid.

The second episode airs the hot water incident in full, crashing the livestream.

The hashtag blows up.

Because the boy was underage, all his footage is cut.

Fans on both sides denounce the toxic solo stans, while ship fans obsess over every detail of Jesse protecting me.

“The more the antis hate, the more real the ship feels.”

Even the scene of me putting ointment on him, disappearing together in the bathroom for fifteen minutes, is aired.

Ship fans lose their minds, writing fanfics that can’t even pass moderation.

Among all the trending topics, one stands out: #HarrisonScowling#.

Harrison, watching episode two, loses his cool, especially during the ‘fifteen minutes in the bathroom’ part. His face is so dark no one in the studio dares speak.

His fans go after the show.

“My idol is the number one ship fan—he’d never be upset. The show must be making him the villain! Ugh, but his acting is so good!”

“Yeah! He was so real last episode—this time the scowl is obviously acting!”

“How much did they pay him to act like this?”

“My idol…”

“Enough already,” I cut off my assistant.

“I’m just happy for you, Savvy. After everything he put you through…”

I close my eyes, patting her head.