Chapter 4: Love Unscripted, Pain Unedited

On the last day of break, I rushed back to college. I didn't want to leave. Wanting to know how he was doing but not wanting to be obvious, I often chatted with Director Whitaker. Over time, we became friends despite the age gap. He was like a mentor. He said I had acting potential, looked good on camera, and introduced me to his friends. When "Midnight Magnolia" premiered, it was an instant hit. Caleb’s value skyrocketed. He was everywhere. Suddenly, everyone around me was talking about him. His ads were everywhere. I checked Instagram—he hadn’t replied in a week. Our last conversation was my message: "The moon hangs above the treetops." I felt a little lost but understood. His accounts were probably managed by his team now.

I missed him, so I messaged Director Whitaker to ask about him. I couldn't help myself. He said Caleb was filming nearby—just two hours away. I asked if I could get a small role. Director Whitaker agreed, and I joined the crew. When Caleb saw me, he was surprised. I smiled: "What a coincidence!"

For several weekends, I hung around the set. I didn't care if people talked. The director liked my work and gave me small roles that needed filling. On the last day of filming, Caleb squinted at me: "You really like being around me, don’t you?" I blushed.

I was startled. "How did you know?"

He didn’t answer. As he turned to leave, I gathered my courage.

"Caleb, can I add you on Instagram?"

I had a new account for work. He pulled up his QR code and handed me his phone. I realized he’d changed his number too. He didn’t answer.

On Valentine’s Day, I confessed to him. I was terrified. He was now a superstar, and I just wanted closure for my crush, not expecting anything. When he didn’t reply for a long time, my heart sank. But suddenly, my phone lit up with his message—a single word: "Okay."

I sat up, double-checked—did he agree? Was he saying yes to being my boyfriend?! Tears blurred my eyes. I wiped them away and asked, "Will you be my boyfriend?" He didn’t answer.

"Yeah, but we can’t go public."

Seeing those words, I burst into tears. "Where are you? I want to see you!"

He paused, then replied: "It’s too late. Tomorrow."

"I want to see you now!"

So I drove four hours to see him that night. The moment he opened the door, I threw myself into his arms. He was stiff, but didn’t push me away.

After we got together, we didn’t see each other much. It was never enough. He didn’t want me too involved in the industry. Sometimes he’d send me two or three scripts. I’d pick the ones I liked—always small roles, short shoots. On his days off, I’d visit him. Every time, I’d cling to him like an octopus. He never complained. He’d try to shake me off, but when he couldn’t, he’d just let me hang on. He liked to sleep holding me from behind. If I moved away because it was too hot, even in his sleep, he’d pull me back. At those times, I’d feel like he really liked me. But he always managed to shatter that illusion.

I bought matching pajamas. When I handed them to him, he refused, looking at me coldly.

"Autumn, I’m warning you again—don’t get any ideas."

I couldn’t help crying. It was the first time I’d cried in front of him. I felt pathetic.

"I know you’re worried about fans finding out! I picked an obscure European brand. If you don’t want them, fine!"

I tossed the pajamas in the trash, grabbed my bag, and left. On the way to the airport, I remembered the stomach medicine I’d bought him was still in my bag. After hesitating, I had the driver turn back. When I returned, he was curled up on the couch. I pulled out the medicine. "This works really well. Try it."

I put it on the shelf. "If you don’t want it, throw it out."

He didn’t respond. As I turned to leave, he suddenly called out, voice hoarse: "Don’t go."

I almost walked out anyway. In the end, I didn’t walk out that door.

Later, I made him a phone charm. "I made this myself. No way fans can track it down."

"I don’t like childish things."

He glanced at it but didn’t take it, eyes still on his script. It stung. After a moment, he added, "Those pajamas were childish too."

I got annoyed and left the charm on the display case. "Fine, don’t take it!"