Ariel hadn't expected the day to begin with a headline screaming her name.
She opened her phone in the small hours, expecting maybe a few notifications. Instead, her screen was a riot of red alerts, trending tags, and social media posts dissecting her every move.
MYSTERY WOMAN GETS CLOSE TO JAXON VALE—FANS FREAK OUT
IS THIS LOVE OR HYPE?
SHE DOESN'T BELONG
A chill ran down her spine. Every comment, every post, every like or dislike felt like a verdict.
And then came the threats. Not vague warnings anymore—messages were specific:
Stop touching him.
Stay away or it will get worse.
You're not safe here.
Ariel's hands trembled. Her chest tightened. She wasn't just being judged anymore; she was being hunted.
She scrolled endlessly, trying to steel herself. She didn't want to cry—not now, not yet—but the pit in her stomach refused to ease.
By the time Jaxon arrived, she was sitting in the living room, curled into herself, the phone loosely clutched in one hand.
He noticed immediately. His eyes narrowed—not in anger, but in concern.
"You've seen it," he said quietly, not even a question.
"Yes," she whispered. "It's… too much."
He stepped closer, careful to leave space, yet close enough for warmth to reach her.
"They're loud," he said. "But you can't let them decide what you are."
"I don't know if I can," she admitted. "They're everywhere. Watching. Judging. Waiting for me to slip."
Jaxon crouched slightly, level with her gaze. "And if you slip?"
Ariel looked at him, surprised. "I… I don't know."
He reached out and brushed her hair behind her ear, subtle, intimate, grounding. "Then I'll catch you. Every time."
Her breath hitched. For a moment, the city outside, the cameras, the screaming fans—it all faded.
And there was only him.
The day unfolded like a nightmare disguised as a schedule.
Interviews. Photo shoots. Press events. Social appearances. And at every turn, Ariel felt the invisible pressure mounting. Every step she took beside Jaxon was analyzed, every laugh replayed and commented on.
By mid-morning, a familiar figure appeared—Maya.
Ariel felt her stomach twist. The rival's presence was subtle at first, a smile here, a tilt of her head there, but every movement was measured to intimidate.
"You're looking tired," Maya said softly, loud enough for everyone to hear. "This isn't a world for beginners."
Ariel squared her shoulders. "I'll survive."
Maya's lips curved into a half-smile. "We'll see."
Her tone was lethal. Not outright aggression, but the type that implied consequences. Ariel knew this was a test—a first strike in a war she didn't volunteer for.
By afternoon, the pressure became unbearable.
Ariel was being photographed at every turn. Each flash felt like a bullet. She felt exposed in a way that was more dangerous than any physical threat.
And then it happened.
A group of fans rushed toward her while Jaxon signed autographs. The barricades were thin; security struggled to maintain order.
Ariel froze. Her instincts screamed run, but the world had eyes, and every movement was being captured.
Jaxon noticed instantly. He stepped forward, arms out, shielding her. "Stay close," he instructed quietly.
Ariel obeyed, her hand brushing his. The brief contact was electrifying—soft, grounding, yet hinting at something more.
One of the fans shouted, "She's not worthy of him!"
Another yelled, "Go home!"
The words cut deep, but Ariel felt something shift inside her.
For the first time, she realized she didn't want to retreat. She didn't want to hide.
Back in the car, she finally exhaled.
Jaxon looked at her, expression guarded. "Are you okay?"
"I… I think so," she said. "But it's overwhelming. I don't know how to do this."
He reached over, lightly touching her hand again. "You don't have to know yet. You just have to be willing."
Her heart raced. Every glance, every touch from him felt dangerous. Alive. She wanted to pull away—but she didn't.
Because the truth was terrifying. She wanted it to continue.
By evening, they arrived at a private event—a gala for charity, yet another stage under the world's eyes.
Cameras flashed the moment they stepped in. Ariel felt exposed. She clutched the clutch in her hand, her fingers white.
Jaxon leaned slightly toward her. "Walk with me," he said softly.
They moved through the crowd, side by side. Every photographer, every whisper, every pointed finger amplified the pressure.
Ariel felt herself shrinking—until he gently placed a hand at the small of her back.
The gesture was protective. Possessive. Intimate.
Her breath caught.
During dinner, the whispers continued.
Maya appeared again, seated at a nearby table with Jaxon's old co-stars. She smiled at Ariel, a smile that carried venom.
"You're doing well," Maya said softly, loud enough for only Ariel to hear. "For now. Don't forget who we are."
Ariel's hands trembled. "I… I'll survive."
"Don't be so sure," Maya replied, her gaze sharp, almost threatening.
Ariel looked down at her plate, trying to steady her breath. She felt the heat of humiliation and fear rising, but also… determination.
Jaxon noticed her flinch and leaned close. "Don't let them intimidate you," he whispered. "They'll try, every time. But I'll be here."
Her chest tightened. Every word from him, every touch, made her heart beat faster. She realized something she hadn't allowed herself to admit before: she was no longer indifferent to him.
And that scared her more than any threat outside.
Later, in the car ride home, the messages started again.
Anonymous threats. Fans demanding she step aside. Media outlets speculating on the "truth" behind their relationship.
Ariel's hands shook. She couldn't stop scrolling, couldn't stop reading.
Jaxon noticed. He gently took her phone. "Enough," he said. "They're not worth it."
"But they're everywhere," she whispered.
He touched her shoulder, steadying her. "Then we ignore them. Together."
Ariel looked at him. The closeness, the warmth, the intensity—everything about him drew her in, terrified her, made her heartbeat impossible to ignore.
And in that quiet car, she understood a dangerous truth: she didn't just want to survive this world anymore.
She wanted to survive it with him.
That night, in the apartment, Ariel couldn't sleep.
She sat on the balcony, the city lights a blur beneath her. Her phone buzzed constantly with new notifications, but she didn't touch it.
Jaxon joined her, leaning on the railing. The air was cool, but warmth radiated between them.
"They'll never stop," he said quietly.
"I know," she replied.
He didn't look at her. Instead, he reached out, brushing her fingers with his own.
"Then let them watch," he whispered. "Let the world see us like this. Because nothing they say matters more than this."
Her heart leapt. She swallowed. Her fingers intertwined with his.
And for the first time, she understood something terrifying:
The line between pretend and reality was fading.
She was no longer just his assistant. She was no longer just a girl borrowed from obscurity.
She was becoming part of him.
And she didn't know if that was safe.
Outside, the city buzzed and flashed. The cameras never slept.
Inside, Ariel realized the truth: the world could try to tear her down. It could threaten her, judge her, and hate her.
But as long as he was there, holding her hand, standing beside her…
She could face it.
And maybe, just maybe, survive.