𝟒𝟖. 𝐢 𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐢 𝐝𝐨𝐧'𝐭 𝐦𝐞𝐚𝐧 𝐭𝐨 𝐛𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐬 𝐰𝐚𝐲

                                    

                                          
She considered texting Madelyn right then and there, asking for Drew's number so she could invite him to get coffee, just something casual. Her fingers itched with the urge to reach out. But she paused, she knew coffee would be impossible. If she let herself be within even ten meters of him, she'd lose every ounce of willpower she thought she had. There'd be no way to pretend she'd moved on, no casual way to explain away the feelings she'd tried so hard to bury.
Shaking her head, she took a deep breath and tried to brush it off. She could compartmentalize. She'd done it a hundred times before—why should now be any different? Tomorrow she had an interview with Vanity Fair for the Anora press circuit, and she needed her head on straight. She could focus. She'd get through it.
The next afternoon, Suki walked into the Vanity Fair studio, hair and makeup impeccable, donning a sleek mini skirt and blazer that complemented the character she'd embodied in Anora. The interview started off easily enough, questions diving into the film, her character's motivations, her own transformation through the role. She spoke with practiced composure, staying light, insightful, charming. This was the type of work she was used to, and she could hide behind it like armor.
But inevitably, the interviewer, a middle-aged woman with bright eyes and a disarming smile, steered the conversation gently towards her personal life. "We all know you've had quite a year. From music to movies, you're one of the busiest people out there right now. But I think we're all curious—anyone special in your life these days?"
Suki gave a small, practiced laugh, brushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Work's definitely keeping me busy. Relationships can be a little tricky to balance in all of this," she said, trying to deflect.
But the interviewer persisted, leaning in just slightly. "Understandable, but... has anyone ever come close? Someone who might've been worth the balancing act?"
Her smile faltered slightly, her gaze dropping, and for a brief moment, she let herself remember the feeling of Drew's arms around her, his voice close to her ear, grounding her like no one else ever had. "There... was someone," she admitted, choosing her words carefully, but the emotion threaded through her voice was unmistakable. "A while ago. I was only in love once. And, well, I made some mistakes. I pushed them away. It was—complicated."
The interviewer's eyes softened as she watched Suki's demeanor change, her gaze focused somewhere beyond the studio lights. "But you don't feel that way anymore?"
Suki took a deep breath, a ghost of a smile playing on her lips as she met the interviewer's gaze. "Let's just say... I think some people are irreplaceable."
Every inch of her heart echoing with memories she'd worked so hard to bury. Drew was there, present in every glance, every word, every space of silence she let linger. And those roses at home—she knew she couldn't keep running forever.
Suki stood in the rehearsal studio, her heart racing as the music enveloped her in a cocoon of sound. The bright lights bathed the space in an ethereal glow, casting long shadows across the polished floor. Yet despite the vibrant energy surrounding her, an unsettling heaviness hung in the air, making it difficult to breathe. As they practiced the choreography for her Grammy performance alongside Abel—"Off The Table" and "Die For You"—she found herself distracted, struggling to connect with the routine.
"Okay, Kai, let's try that part again," she instructed, attempting to shake off the unease that clung to her. The choreography was meant to be fluid and passionate, but each movement felt mechanical, forced, as though the dance had overshadowed the raw emotions behind the music. The thumping beats echoed in her chest, but the rhythm felt off, like a heartbeat that had lost its tempo.