Summer's POV
By the next morning, the ad wasn't just viral — it was a cultural event.
The video had dropped at sunrise. Within two hours, it had over ten million views.
Hashtags climbed like wildfire:
> #EthanAndSummerUnscripted
#PROrTrueLove
#ThatTempleKiss
Her phone wouldn't stop buzzing. The internet didn't know whether to call it marketing genius or emotional manipulation.
Half the comments screamed "Couple goals!"
The other half accused them of faking intimacy for fame.
She scrolled until her stomach turned.
Then came the call from her agency.
"Summer, we need a joint statement," her manager said briskly. "This clip is too hot. Either you deny the relationship or confirm it — no middle ground. The brand's PR team is begging for control."
Summer pinched the bridge of her nose. "Control of what? My emotions?"
"Your image, darling. Same thing."
"I'll think about it."
"No, you'll decide by noon."
She hung up before the argument could spiral. Her pulse was already in her throat.
For a moment she considered going dark — no interviews, no posts, no explanations. But the world didn't like silence; it filled it with stories.
---
Ethan's POV
He'd been through scandals before. This felt different.
When his publicist called, the tone was urgent. "Ethan, the campaign's exploding. You and Summer are everywhere. We need to clarify the narrative before someone else does."
"Clarify?" he repeated.
"Yes. Confirm or deny. The network's watching. So are sponsors."
He laughed without humor. "Right. Wouldn't want to confuse the sponsors."
"Ethan," the voice warned, "don't get emotional."
He hung up.
Because that was the problem — he was emotional. Too much.
By the time he reached Summer's place, reporters had already stationed themselves across the street. He took the back stairs, knocked softly.
She opened the door looking exhausted, her hair pulled into a messy bun, phone clutched like a weapon.
"Let me guess," he said. "They want damage control."
"They want a headline," she muttered. "And we're the headline."
"Then maybe we give them something else."
She frowned. "Like what?"
He smiled slightly. "Truth."
---
Summer's POV
Truth sounded nice in theory — terrifying in practice.
She paced the small living room while he leaned against the window. The street below buzzed with journalists and flashing lenses.
"You realize if we confirm anything, they'll dissect every photo, every look," she said. "They'll make it into a franchise."
He nodded. "And if we deny it, they'll call it a PR stunt."
She sighed. "So it's lose-lose."
"Not if we stop playing."
She stopped pacing. "Meaning?"
He looked at her — really looked, with that slow, grounding steadiness that had always undone her. "Meaning we don't post, we don't deny, we don't feed them. We just live. Together. Let silence be our statement."
She blinked. "You want to ghost the entire media?"
"Exactly."
She stared at him, half amused, half incredulous. "You realize that's career suicide?"
He smiled. "Maybe. But at least it's honest."
---
Ethan's POV
They ordered takeout instead of answering any calls.
Every phone around them buzzed like an angry hive, but they let it.
He watched her pick at noodles while notifications lit her screen — brands, journalists, friends, enemies.
"You're too calm," she said finally.
"I'm just tired," he replied. "Tired of pretending my heart is a press release."
Her lips curved despite everything. "That's… unfairly poetic."
He shrugged. "Occupational hazard."
She laughed, quiet and weary. Then, softer: "You really mean it? That we say nothing?"
"I mean we live. If it's real, the noise won't matter."
She hesitated, then reached across the table and laced her fingers with his. The small gesture felt louder than any statement they could have written.
"Fine," she said. "No posts. No lies. Just… us."
"Just us," he echoed.
Outside, the world screamed for confirmation. Inside, the only headline that mattered was unspoken.
---
Summer's POV
By nightfall, Chloe was having a meltdown over text.
> You can't go silent! That's PR suicide!
At least tweet something!
People are making fan trailers!
Summer stared at the messages, then looked at Ethan.
He was asleep on her couch, arms folded, face softened in the amber light. For the first time in days, she felt peace.
She smiled, typed one line, and hit "post."
> Some things don't need statements. 🌙
Within minutes, it went viral.
People argued, speculated, cried, celebrated.
But for once, Summer didn't care.
Because the truth wasn't trending —
it was asleep in her living room.