Chapter 2: Echoes After the Spark
The same evening – Quezon City
The sun had slipped behind the skyline by the time Bella reached her family's ancestral home in New Manila. The streetlamps bathed the tree-lined avenue in pools of golden light, and the massive wrought-iron gate creaked open at the sound of her car's engine.
Casa Santiago stood like a monument—Spanish-tiled roof, grand columns, and decades of showbiz history woven into its very walls. It had been featured in magazines, used as a set in period dramas, and whispered about in gossip columns. But to Bella, it was just home—and sometimes a gilded cage.
She stepped inside, heels echoing across the marble foyer. The scent of vanilla candles and old books lingered in the air. From the music room, the faint sound of Chopin drifted, signaling her mother's usual post-dinner piano session. Elena Santiago never missed a note, in life or in music.
"Bella, darling," Elena called without turning from the keys. "How did it go?"
Bella dropped her bag on the hallway bench and leaned against the doorway. "Good. I think."
"That's not very reassuring."
"There was this guy," Bella said, almost without thinking. "A wildcard. New. I don't think he's even done a teleserye before."
Elena's fingers paused mid-phrase. "And yet you're mentioning him."
Bella sighed, plucking an apple from the silver fruit bowl. "He surprised me."
Her mother's arched brow was as sharp as ever. "We don't get surprised in this business, Bella. We prepare."
Across town, Enzo sat on the edge of his bed in a cramped two-bedroom apartment above a convenience store in Cubao. His cousin Gab was sprawled on the couch, eating pancit straight from the takeout box.
"You're awfully quiet for someone who just auditioned with Bella Santiago," Gab said between mouthfuls. "Did she fall in love with you on the spot? She looks like she eats guys like us for breakfast."
Enzo smiled faintly. "She was different. Not what I expected."
"Beautiful, mysterious, and terrifying? That's what I'd expect."
"No," Enzo said, standing up and pacing. "She was… controlled. Like every move was choreographed. But then—during the scene—something cracked."
Gab grinned. "So, you're saying you broke Bella Santiago?"
Enzo threw a pillow at him. "I'm saying... she felt real. In that moment."
He grabbed his script from the side table and flipped through the pages, his thumb pausing at the lines he'd read that morning. He didn't understand what had pulled that emotion out of him. He hadn't planned it. It had just come.
And he wanted to chase that feeling again.
The next morning, Bella found herself back at Viva Studios—this time for a promotional shoot for a skin care line. Lights flashed, stylists fussed over hair strands, and her face had to hold the perfect "glow" for the product's key visual. She smiled on cue, turned her head three degrees to the left, held her pose while someone spritzed mist across her cheekbones. It was mechanical, rehearsed.
But all she could think about was the look in Enzo's eyes when he'd said his lines. Not polished. Not posed. Honest.
During a break, her longtime assistant Pia handed her a bottle of water. "So... are you still thinking about Mystery Guy from yesterday?"
Bella blinked. "I wasn't."
Pia smirked. "You just signed your autograph as 'Bella Rivera.'"
Bella looked down at the glossy headshot she'd just ruined and rolled her eyes. "Don't be ridiculous."
But even she wasn't convinced.
That same day, Enzo returned to his university for his final exams. The hallways were noisy with pre-graduation stress. He passed posters of career fairs and corporate internships with barely a glance. Advertising may have been his major, but a new path had started to take root in his imagination.
After his last test, he headed to the open gym and sank into a pickup game with his teammates. For a few minutes, the rhythm of the court cleared his mind. But even then, as he dribbled down the lane, the memory of Bella's gaze crept back in.
Later, while scrolling through his messages, he saw a new notification from an unknown number:
"Hi, Enzo. This is Marga from Viva Films. We'd like to schedule a callback. You and Bella will be doing a full scene test on Friday. Congrats."
He stared at the screen, heart thudding. It was happening. The spark hadn't just been felt—it had been seen.
On Friday morning, the studio was quieter. Only the callback list had been summoned, and the hallways felt more focused, more intimate. Bella arrived first, her script already creased with highlights and marginalia. She looked up when Enzo walked in—clean-cut, nervous, but holding that same grounded presence.
They greeted each other quietly. No fanfare. No awkwardness.
Inside the soundstage, the scene they'd been given was more intense—an argument between two people who'd fallen in love but now stood on the edge of something unraveling. The emotional stakes were higher. There were tears. Silences. Frustrations. It demanded vulnerability.
This time, Bella didn't hold back. She let herself shake. Her voice cracked. She reached for something deeper—and Enzo met her there. Not as a co-actor, but as a partner.
When they finished, there was a long silence.
Ramon Ventura stood from his seat, eyes glinting. "Congratulations," he said simply. "You've both got the parts."
Bella stared at him. "Both of us?"
Ramon smiled. "It was never in question."
Afterward, Enzo and Bella walked out into the sunlight again, scripts still in hand. Neither spoke for a while.
"So," Enzo said eventually, "I guess we're stuck with each other."
Bella looked at him, then laughed—a real laugh this time, not the one trained for cameras. "I guess we are."
He offered his hand. "To the beginning of something big?"
She took it. "Let's make it unforgettable."